


Days Till the Sun Rises

by WinterCB



Series: The Winter Cherry Blossom [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fullmetal Alchemist 2003/Brotherhood Fusion, Angst, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/M, Marriage, Miscarriage, Post-Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa, Pregnancy, Romance, Roy is a charming idiot, Royai - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 63,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21532129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterCB/pseuds/WinterCB
Summary: If there were just the two of them in this world, he would be a great husband.In reality, he belongs not to her, but the country he has sworn to protect. She understands. That is also why she was attracted to him in the first place.When she discovers that she is pregnant with his child, after so many times trying, she chooses to keep that news to herself and accepts her deployment to stop Aerugo’s invasion.After all, she is the only one he relies on. The only one he trusts.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Series: The Winter Cherry Blossom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1270712
Comments: 20
Kudos: 33





	1. The Deal with the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll try to update at least one chapter in one of the three stories in the Winter Cherry Blossom series every Friday.

Thirty years service. Not once had he set foot in Central.

He loathed the place for its filthy politics and power play—the same reason he volunteered for posts and assignments that put him far away from Central. He believed it was the right decision, for Central Command was never the right place for a simple man. On flip side, long term isolation had cost him. He had lost count of how he had been kicked around just to get a signature. In his latest predicament, getting his proposal viewed was close to impossible.

He opened the folder and sighed. The date stamp, dated three years ago, with the word 'received', was a symbol of his incompetency. He had almost given up hope.

Until now.

That day was still fresh in his mind. He was walking down the stairs from the castle, defeated. He was so frustrated, that he did not realize someone was coming from the opposite direction. But thanks to it, he met Lieutenant Vato Falman, who had picked up the proposal and read it. The lieutenant promised he would personally recommend to the Commander-in-Chief.

It was an insult, even to a simple man as him.

First, the lieutenant did not know him. Second, that man took only a few seconds skimming through his hundred-pages-long proposal. Third, it was the CIC! The CIC of the State's Military!

Standing before the front yard of the CIC's residence, he wondered if it was a prank that went too far. The mansion was rather modest, hiding behind walls of pink trees that rustled in the mild breeze. They were beauties of their kind.

"General Curtiss!"

He turned to find a lanky man reaching a hand to him. "Lieutenant Falman! Great to see you!" He took Falman's hand into a firm grip. "Have you met the CIC?"

"He was just getting ready."

His mind suddenly went blank. "Oh dear..." The major general held his jaw as if it was going to drop.

"You'll be fine, General. If it helps..." Falman leaned closer to the general, and said, "The Commander rarely brings work home, especially if it is his day-off. Clearly, he has a high regard on you."

"Listening to you somehow quenches my worry," said the general.

Stepping a side with his right arm spread, the lieutenant said, "This way please."

Like a servant going to meet his king, Curtiss followed the lieutenant closely as they came to the garden, where they were frisked by the guards. Soon, they went to a man, in his mid-thirty, sitting by a round tea table.

"Commander..." Lieutenant Falman called. "Major General William Curtiss is here."

"Good afternoon, Commander!" The general saluted.

"At ease," said Mustang, seemingly surprised. "You do know that this is an unofficial meeting?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then let's not bring the formality with you and take a seat."

Curtiss obliged and pulled a chair before sitting down. He tried not to stare. The CIC seemed to be more amicable than he thought. "Sir, if I may..."

"General... why did you keep yourself away from Central?"

That question, sounded benign from Mustang's mouth, shot right at Curtiss. Knowing that there was nowhere to escape, Curtiss said, "I prefer to work with brute force. Central is rather..."

"Complicated?"

"It is suffice to say that politics is not my forte."

"Fair enough," said Mustang. "Your proposal is impeccable. The West Academy will surpass Central Campus in due time."

"Thank you very much."

"The council will review it to determine the funding allocation. Starting from next month, you'll report directly to me of its progress. Do you have any question?"

"Regrettably, sir," said Curtiss. "I will retire in two months."

Mustang leaned back, realized why Curtiss came to Central. "I suppose you have a successor in mind. Otherwise..."

"Yes, sir." Curtiss then pressed his lips.

"Is there a problem?" Mustang asked.

"She is rather controversial..." Curtiss said.

"She? You don't mean Lieutenant General Olivia Armstrong, do you?"

"No, no. no. She is definitely fit for the job, but she is much needed at the North."

"Then?"

Watching the anticipating eyes, Curtiss gulped. He said, "It's Colonel Riza Hawkeye." He could see Mustang and Falman's faces changed. Curtiss leaned forward, put his arms on the table, and carried on, "I know that she had been discharged of the service..." He stopped when he found Falman shaking his head.

"I have to say, that is a very bold move, Curtiss," said Mustang.

"You may not believe, but I have no hidden agenda." Curtiss pushed a folder forward and said, "These are the profiles. If you read them, you'll know I made the right choice."

Mustang saw those earnest eyes yet he refused to give in. After letting out a long breath, Mustang said, "While I recognize your effort, my wife is not..." The Commander trailed off when he saw a woman running towards him. Her troubled face prompted Mustang to spring up from his seat and rushed to her.

"Not again..." Curtiss heard Falman muttered. "I'm sorry, General," said Falman to Curtiss. "You have to leave."

After that day, Curtiss was never summoned again.

* * *

_ The mighty Gate stood before Mustang, next to the Gate was pure white light with humanoid silhouette. _

_ "You're back," said the humanoid. _

_ "I don't recall opening the Gate," said Mustang. _

_ "No, but you wanted to be here." _

_ Mustang did not deny. Since it was not the first time he met the Truth, he had braced himself for the worst. He asked, "What's going to happen?" _

_ "I'll let you decide," the humanoid ended the sentence with a grin. _

_ "Does it matter? In the end, you still choose what to take from me." _

_ "True, but everyone bargains." _

_ "I reject. There is no point." _

_ "Then, why are you here?" _

_ Mustang paused. Did he really want nothing? "I want to stop Grumman," he said. _

_ "Still trying to be a hero!" said the humanoid, sounded surprised. "You offered yourself to me for the Gate to be sealed. Your mind and body are mine. What else can you offer?" _

_ "I'll be your vessel to stop Grumman _ ."

_ The humanoid guffawed. "What makes you think that I could not do it myself?" _

_ "I've never doubted your ability. But, I thought you might find it more amusing by using me. Is that not why I am here even though I didn't perform a human transmutation?" _

_ "Exactly! Indulging in human's struggle has never been more satisfying." _

_ Mustang's surrounding began to vaporize, leaving darkness behind.  _

_ "Remember what you owe.” The voice reverberated. “When it is time, I will take what belongs to me." _

"Commander? Roy?"

Stirred by the sweet, soft voice, Mustang opened his eyes, where a pair of amber eyes met. Her long blonde hair was waving in the air and brushing his face. The Commander let out a smile.

"Can you tell me whose beautiful wife this is?" He reaped his reward when the woman chuckled. His face relaxed, gently stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. "You are most beautiful when you smile." His voice was ever so solemn.

Hawkeye bent over and kissed him on the lips. "I'm fine." Her gaze on his dark brown eyes.

"I know." Mustang closed his eyes.

For the past couple months, the Commander always came back to spend time with her during lunch hour. While she appreciated his effort, his routine is taking its toll. Often times, he quickly dozed off whenever he was at rest, like he did.

"Commander," she called him by his rank again, her hand touched the navy blue fabric on his chest. "You need to stop blaming yourself.” She felt his chest rise and fall steadily.

Mustang kept mum, seemingly asleep.

"I couldn't see them come into this world and hold them in my arms. But..." She trailed off as she felt Mustang shuddering.

It was a topic best left untouched. Four of them, but none survived the first trimester. To the husband and wife, it was their darkest nightmare. They were condemned to eternal hell, as some said, a curse from dealing with the devil.

Hawkeye took his hand in her own and touched the back of his hand against her cheek. "Thank you... for everything."

Mustang felt something dripped onto the back of his hand.

That day, it rained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After watched Shamballa, I was quite angry and confused why Roy being so indifferent to Riza. 
> 
> Come on! He was waiting for Edward?! (I like Edward. Don’t get me wrong)
> 
> More than a decade later, I started to have this thought that there might be something going on after the showdown between Roy and Bradley.
> 
> And moving forward...
> 
> We all know how Roy and Riza like to be the hero and heroine, saving everyone but themselves. Having these two who claimed to be in ‘platonic relationship’ as married couple was not easy. I don’t think they will jump into husband-and-wife mode simply because they love each other. That can be a contributor, but not strong enough, unless something bigger than themselves is involved.
> 
> Writing this story help me think from their perspectives and find those missing links that explained Roy’s response in Shamballa. Compared to continuing the story of Brotherhood, post-Shamballa is darker and more topics left untouched. 
> 
> True enough. As more chapters came in, the emo-Roy really made more sense and much more interesting than Roy in Brotherhood. 
> 
> So let’s just play that script, shall we?


	2. The Story Behind Hawkeye's Maiden Name

"Like I'd said, if we continue to let those Shiramites enter the State, we will be overrun soon!" One of the generals said.

"Are you saying that we should let the refugees die?" A man, in a business suit, asked.

"That is not what I meant. Two years ago, we have received more than five millions Shiramites into our country out of humanitarian effort. Up to date, their population has tripled. This equals to a third of Amestris' citizens. At this rate, their numbers will soon exceed all of us. We just do not have enough man power to control that many people. As we speak, The South has declared an emergency a few days ago. If we do not act immediately, this crisis will expand to nation-wide."

"Stop patronizing us, general!" Another assemblyman stood up and shouted. "We all know what you are getting at. So, quit using the refugees to cover yours and your men's incompetency."

With that statement ended, an uproar instantly took over the assembly.

The Speaker struck the gavel and shouted for order. Nothing changed. Most were simply too engaged in exchanging insults to heed the clack.

Having to witness that utmost disgrace, Mustang rubbed his forehead. "Remind me again why I am here."

Taking note that it was a rhetorical question expressing a complaint to him, First Lieutenant Falman replied, "Sir, you had been absent for a few months."

"Apparently..." Mustang crossed his arms, eyes watching the crowd. "I have not missed anything."

Determined to prove the Commander wrong, Falman continued, "It's not about information. You need to start building your rapport with the Assembly. How are you going to gain their support if you don't even show your face?"

"Look closely, Lieutenant! Do these people look like they care about my face?" Mustang's spirited voice declared victory. "As far as I know, they are quite happy squeezing each other's throat."

At that point, Falman wanted to slam his head against the wall. Ever since he took up the responsibility as Mustang's adjutant, there was not a day Falman not pray for Hawkeye's return. Her presence alone would have smothered the notorious flame.

Before Falman could figure out a counterattack, Mustang rose up and headed out.

"Sir, you can't leave now!" Falman urged. "Sir!" He shouted. As the commotion increased its amplitude, so was the speed of the Commander.

While Mustang was making large strides towards the exit, he heard Falman's voice calling him again.

"This is First Lieutenant Vato Falman, the CIC's adjutant."

Silence followed the echo of his adjutant's voice, prompted Mustang to turn around. The Commander scowled.

Standing at the podium was the lanky soldier whose eyes looking up to the Commander like spotlights honed in on the performer. "Ladies and gentlemen, the CIC is with us today to address any questions from the floor," said Falman, making sure he hammered the last nail into the coffin.

The Commander had to admit. It was a surprise attack well played.

"The Speaker now grants General Roy Mustang, CIC of the State's Military, the right to address the Assembly."

Like a sheep in the slaughterhouse, Mustang reluctantly got down to the podium, did his best to conceal his unwillingness.

The lieutenant quickly yielded the podium and disappeared, leaving the Commander to face the crowd.

The Commander put each hand on its respective side of the podium, portraying his confidence.

"Commander, what is the situation in the South?" a member of the Assembly asked.

"Critical but under control. Due to recent earthquake at the South border, we were facing mass influx of refugees. To preserve order, barricades were in place. Our priority is to ensure enough food and medical supply. While the military is doing their best to support this humanitarian effort, I'm asking the members of the Assembly to establish a long term plan to cater the refugees' need—"

"Hold your horses, Commander!" A young man stood up. "Here we are talking about refugee crisis, which would not have happened had you, the head of the military, done your job in maintaining peace and order. While we are trying to comprehend how the world's military superpower can fail such a simple task, you on the other hand tell us, the Assembly, how to do legislative work!"

"That is not what I meant," said Mustang.

"There you go, ladies and gentlemen." The young man opened his palms. "This is what we get after we accepted the military with open arms. These dictators had finally showed their true colors!" He shouted.

The floor once again lost its peace while clamor regained control.

Watching the Assembly divided into the blues and the suits, the Commander then found the same young man looking at him, sneering.

* * *

Mustang stormed out of the hall in rage. Falman followed him to heel.

"What was his deal?" The Commander roared.

"Peter Norsk," said Falman. "Central representative, the heir of Willis Corporate—"

"I know who he is, Lieutenant. Save me the details."

"There is more. After Bradley's downfall, Willis' business has been growing exponentially throughout the country. He is now the rising star and most influential in the Assembly," Falman described as both officers descended through the stairs.

"Rising star?" Mustang snorted. "They are just bowing to his gold."

"Young and charismatic... that was the tagline from his radio commercial," said Falman. "Does it sound familiar?"

That question scorched a mark on Mustang, reminded him of his younger self before the revolution. He stopped. "Was that why you put me to the podium?" Mustang’s eyes narrowed on Falman.

"This is the new era, sir. Democracy is not as benign as you think it is."

Mustang was prepared to protest, only to be interrupted.

"Commander!"

Making sure that he had their attention, the blonde man kept his grin as he stepped closer to the soldiers. "Regarding the humanitarian aid... Willis Corporate has pledged its support. Just let me know how much you need," he said.

"On behalf of the refugees, thank you!" Mustang said.

"Don't mention." Norsk then tucked a hand in his side pocket. "You know what, Commander? I truly admire you. Having your wife to clean up your mess at the South while you hiding here? I could never do that to someone I love," said Norsk.

How dare him! The lieutenant stepped forward but stopped by a hand that raised over his chest.

Mustang kept his smile. "What can I say? I've married a strong woman."

Norsk raised his brow. "I'm afraid that strong woman has found a new lover."

"What are you insinuating?"

Norsk produced a newspaper to Mustang, said, "Today's headline."

The Commander unfolded the newspapers. Falman too, was eager to see what it was.

"Huskie-Hawkeye Duo Saved Thousands," Norsk said it out loud. "They look quite a pair, aren't they? Who would have thought she is married to you."

"That's it?" Mustang asked, the newspaper dangled from his hand.

"Is that not enough?"

"Thank you for your concern. Dr. Huskie is a very good friend to us husband and wife and it is very rude of you to accuse them what they have not committed. As a member of the Assembly, you do know that constitutes defamation, I assume, Mr. Norsk." Mustang smirked.

"And I am a witness, Commander," Falman said.

The soldiers gladly watched their prey gulped. "You are his subordinate," Norsk said. "The court will not trust your word."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure," Mustang said.

The blonde man looked at Mustang then Falman. He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm sorry that you have to return my kind intention with hostility. I can only wish you the best." Norsk adjusted the collars of his coat, walked off.

Watching the back of the blonde man from far, Falman added, "He had a point though." Realized that he might have been misinterpreted, he blurted out, "I'm not saying that Colonel Hawkeye will betray you." He frantically waved his hands side to side. "But, hasn't she been away too long for anyone's good?"

Six months, not a long time, but the longest since they had been together.

Falman found his superior stared blankly at the sky. "Commander?"

"It’s raining."

Falman peered out before he replied confidently, "No, sir. It is dry out here."

The Commander was still gazing at the sky. “No, Lieutenant. The rain has never stopped."

"I don't understand, sir." Puzzled by the Commander's question, Falman peered at the sky again. The weather had been superb since the past few days. And, with the Cirrus Clouds decorating the bright blue sky, only alchemy could make it rain. While he pondered on the question, Mustang had set off to the just arrived black car. Falman served the Commander to departure. The question was kept for another day.

* * *

The bell rang and so she ran to the door. This time, she was tall enough to turn the knob herself without her mother's help.

"Uncle Roy!" She tackled the older man and wrapped his waist tightly.

"Good to see you too, Elysia!" Mustang smiled.

The girl then glanced around. "Where is Aunty Riza?" She asked, her head raised up high, big round eyes showed disappointment.

"There is something that she needs to attend to."

"I saw her in the newspaper. Is she at the South?"

"Elysia!" Gracia came out in a hurry. "Oh Roy, you are here!" Seeing her daughter still clinging on Mustang, she said, "Where's your manners, Elysia? You should have invited Uncle Roy inside."

The girl grinned widely.

* * *

"I can understand why she made that decision." Gracia served the tea to Mustang. "I could only imagine what both of you have been through."

"It was our decision. We just needed some time." Mustang said as he gazed on his reflection on the tea.

"When he was gone, I couldn't bear to stay in this house," Gracia said. Her statement prompted Mustang to raise his head to look at her. Then, she took Elysia's hand into hers. "Elysia... I could not even look at her. She just looks so much like her father."

"It's okay, mother," said the girl.

Gracia turned to Mustang and said, "What I am trying to tell you is, there is a time for everything. No matter what, you still have each other."

Mustang said nothing. He only took the cup in his hand and sipped the hot tea.

"You will die and rot in hell," Gracia said curtly.

The Commander choked, coughing non-stop.

"That is what he told me when I asked him why he spared your marriage paper from disposal," Gracia added.

_ Damn it, _ _ Hughes...  _

"He then said, 'Could you imagine there is someone who is willing to rot in hell with him?'" The widow said as she looked at Mustang's bewildered face. "As an insurance, he kept Riza's maiden name on the paper, in case you die before getting her hands, so to save the hassle of changing her name if she sees another man in the future."

"Uncle Roy?" Elysia looked at her uncle, who was having the eyes of daggers, teeth gnashing.

Mustang stood up unexpectedly and stomped his way to a cabinet by the wall, where photos of Hughes and Mustang was placed. "How many times did I tell you to stay away from my love life!" He shouted and pointed at Hughes' face. "Rot in hell? Save her the hassle? I let her keep her name because I respected her father, and I am not going to let her marry another man even when I am dead. Do you hear me, Hughes?!" Mustang huffed and puffed in anger.

After he ranted out his anger, Mustang excused himself and went home. Feeling heavy, he headed back to his room. After all, it was a long day.

"Welcome home, sir. Should I prepare dinner?" A woman asked. She then noticed the Commander passed by, murmuring incoherently.

As the Commander came to a door, he turned and pushed the knob.

He froze.

It was a room painted in blue, with wallpapers of large animal drawings. Mustang was only a feet from the wooden crib. Feeling the smooth wooden surface under the skin of his fingers, Mustang recalled how he had set the pieces together.

He could see Hawkeye at the empty space, where the boxes were. She stood there, teasing him of how unskillful he was. Mustang did not bother. After several days of assembling and disassembling the parts, he made it.

Mustang picked up a toy in his hand, squeezed it while it emitted sound from flowing air.

The woman came up to him. "I'm sorry, sir. I will make sure the room is clear by tomorrow."

"No, Valarie," said Mustang. "Just keep it as it is."

Before she opened her mouth, the Commander left again, heading downstairs, and picked up the phone.

_ "Hello?" _

"Hawkeye?"

_ "Commander." _

"What's wrong?"

She did not reply.

"Is everything all right?"

_ "Just some small disturbance in the camp. People are scared, worried that they are going to get deported." _

"I'll send more peacekeepers to you—"

_ "No, Commander. More soldiers will only make them more anxious." _

"Are you safe?"

_ "Thaw and Winry are with me. Kevin and Dr. Knox will come back soon enough. Don't worry about me. You have work to do in Central." _

"I'm just thinking..."

_ "Sorry, Commander. I have to go. Will call you soon." _

He then heard a stable pulse. Reluctantly, he placed the receiver back, eyes still staring at the phone. The Commander picked up the phone again and dialed a number.

_ "Commander's office." _

"Lieutenant, regarding Willis Corporate's aid, have you received the order?"

_ "Yes. It just came in this evening." _

"Good," Mustang smirked. "Get the convoy ready by tomorrow morning. I'll lead."


	3. A Call from Home

Cold water poured on her hands, turning to red stream that spiraled into the drain. The sound of a child screaming echoed in her ears, slowly stifling the symphony of flowing water. Red shades on her hands faded, yet vivid in her eyes.

Huskie came in, brows knitted together. "Riza, what are you doing?"

The women paid no attention to her surroundings, except her hands which she had rubbed repeatedly over the same spot, seemingly wanted the skin to peel off.

"This is the seventh time you wash your hands!" Huskie's words had fallen to vacuum. "Stop!" Huskie snatched her hands, pulled them away from the sink, then turned the water off.

"Kevin!" Hawkeye's eyes widened.

Gripping her shoulders and looking into her eyes, Huskie said, "Don't... move..." He went away, only to return in less than a minute, with a towel in his hands. "There!" He said as he took her hands and wiped them with the towel. "They are clean, so stop washing them."

"He was covered in mud, frightened. So, I brought him back. I didn't know..."

Huskie felt her hands trembling. Quickly, he pulled a chair for her then another one for himself. After they were sitting down, he said, "It was an accident! You couldn't know that he would steal a knife from here and injure a soldier. No one could have stopped him when he took his own life."

Hawkeye looked at her best friend, with dull shimmers quivering on her eyes. "He was only a boy," she said.

"You did everything you could to stop him," said Huskie, leaning forward. "Don't do this to yourself, okay?" The doctor then paused. After letting a long breath out of his nostrils, he looked at her and said, "Go home, Riza."

The woman sprang up from her seat. "What?"

"You need to go home."

"But, I am home."

"Don't play dumb with me now. You know very well that there is nothing left for you here after your father's death."

"I just need some time."

"For what?" Huskie scowled, leaning back. "It's been six months since you came. You don't even bother to send a word to Central. Strangest is, nothing came from Mustang either. What happened between you two?"

Hawkeye looked away.

"The last time I saw you in Central, you were happy." The doctor stopped then continued because he was not getting an answer. "Did he hurt you?"

"No!"

"Then?"

"It's me, alright!" Hawkeye snapped, darted out.

"Riza, wait!" Huskie called, then jumped into pursuit. "Riza!" The doctor followed her out of the house. A resting dog by the door stood up at the ruckus.

"Dr. Huskie!"

A man in black suit jumped in, blocking the brown haired doctor.

"That's close enough!" Thaw warned, his arm held out straight.

Huskie stepped away, eyes staring at Hawkeye, who had her back facing him. "Riza!" Huskie called again. "Talk to me!" He shouted.

Black Hayate, on the other hand, trotted to his mistress' side. His tongue stuck out, tail wagged side to side.

"Leave me alone..." Hawkeye sounded tired.

"You know I can't do that." Huskie waited, longing for her to turn around and face him, but she did not. "I'm your best friend. Is there a burden too much to share?"

Hawkeye turned around, then walked up to Huskie.

"Riza..."

"Ma'am?" Thaw called.

"It's alright," Hawkeye replied, then looked at Huskie in the eyes. "Dr. Huskie deserves an explanation."

Hawkeye stared up into the sky while Huskie sat beside her on the step.

"Not long after you left Central, I found out that I was pregnant." Hawkeye said. "But... the baby did not survive the first trimester."

Turned his head sharply to his left, the doctor's eyes widened at his friend.

"That was not the first time, but it’s my last." Hawkeye drew a long breath into her lungs then exhaled. “I became very ill. The Commander was there. He never left.” She felt a hand laid on top of hers, gripping firmly.

"Why did you leave then?"

Hawkeye lowered her head. "It would have been simpler if he is not the CIC and I'm not Grumman's granddaughter."

"Why? Didn't the court clear your name?"

"Nonetheless, I am still the likely person to be Grumman's successor. No one can accept the CIC's wife who has ties with a terrorist."

"Mustang couldn't have let you leave."

"On the contrary... He knew better." Hawkeye sounded natural. "I'm a barrier to his goal."

"That is ridiculous! Both of you are insane!" Huskie exclaimed.

Hawkeye stood up. "I don't expect you to understand.” She climbed the stairs. "I will go home... when the time is right." She pressed the handle down and pulled it. The light was let out. "Winry?"

Huskie heard the name and turned his head to the back. He could not see who it was as Hawkeye had blocked his view.

"Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Mustang," the young woman mumbled.

Huskie leaped when he saw his best friend dropped to her knees.

"Winry! Winry!" He heard Hawkeye called out.

After striding over the steps, Huskie saw Hawkeye cradling a young woman, who had her eyes closed. Thaw too had dashed in, for fear of his client’s safety.

"Ma'am, are you all right?" He asked.

"It's not me. It's Winry!" said Hawkeye, seemingly worried. "She just passed out all of the sudden."

"Get her to her room!" The doctor urged.

Hawkeye wrung the cloth in her hands dry, folded it, and carefully laid it on top of Winry's forehead. The veteran then sat at the bedside, watching over the red cheeks, while the doctor was tidying his medical kit.

The girl moaned. Her eyes fluttered languidly before fixing on the closest person she saw.

"How do you feel?" Hawkeye asked.

Winry smiled weakly. "I'll survive."

"You are lucky that it is only a common cold," Huskie said, closing the kit. He then looked at the patient, who rolled to her right so that her back was facing both the veteran and the doctor. "There is a reason why the slum is off-limits." 

The girl kept quiet and still. The doctor heeded the sign and took the bag.

"Where are you going?" Hawkeye asked.

Huskie lifted up the kit in his hand. "The meds are running low," Huskie replied.

"To the clinic? At this hour?"

"Be back before dawn... promise."

"Take Thaw with you. It's not safe to go alone," said Hawkeye.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant Spencer is equally reliable when it comes to safety."

Hawkeye watched the doctor stepped out of the room only to return again.

The doctor looked at Hawkeye. "Call him. At least, let him know you are safe."

Before the veteran said anything, the doctor had set off. The blonde turned to the girl. Watching the girl's back still and motionless, Hawkeye said, "I haven't had the chance to say it."

Listened attentively, Winry heard the older woman said, "Thank you, for saving my life."

Winry opened her eyes.

Hawkeye continued, "After what Kevin and I had put you through, you have every reason to be angry."

"I like you, Mrs. Mustang," the girl said, she then rolled on her back, facing Hawkeye. "It isn't hard to comprehend why Dr. Huskie did what he did, because I'd witnessed the same from Ed and Al, and the consequences. You can argue that Dr. Huskie had not performed human transmutation, but he did bend the law of nature. There will be no escape from punishment. Look where those two idiots are now... trapped in the alternate world, never to return. I just hate to see any of you have to suffer for it. Once is enough, don't you think?"

Hawkeye blinked at those pure blue eyes, then let out a chuckle.

"Did I say anything wrong?" The girl frowned.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude." Hawkeye took some time to calm herself down. Smiling, she said, "I never realized you care about us so much."

"Of course I do!" Winry exclaimed, her brows bent, lips pressed together tightly. "Well, mostly just you. Dr. Huskie still creeps me out." the girl then softened her voice, "Besides... I don't want to owe the Commander anything." The girl looked away.

"The Commander?" Hawkeye sounded surprised. "What does he have to do in this?"

The girl froze.

"Winry?" Hawkeye called again.

"Please don't ask me." The girl brought the fleece up to cover her head.

Hawkeye sighed. "I guess I'll ask him myself."

"Okay! Okay!" The girl blurted, revealed her face. "Please, just don't be mad of what I'm about to tell you."

"Winry, are you going to tell me, or not?" Hawkeye crossed her arms.

Winry looked at Hawkeye nervously, then said, "I was given a workshop in Central HQ, full access to Engineering Corp."

Her answer raised a brow, "The Military Engineering Corp?"

"Right." Winry rubbed her hands.

"In return..."

"Just to keep you company."

Hawkeye rose to her feet. Her arm was locked in tight grip immediately.

"And also to make sure Dr. Huskie is never alone with you. That's it!" Winry said. When she looked up to the veteran, coldness seeped in. Winry finally understood why the Elrics were so afraid of Hawkeye.

"Is that why you kept calling me 'Mrs. Mustang'?" Hawkeye asked.

"It’s the Commander’s idea. I had nothing to do with it."

The air was still. The girl waited, as if she was a defendant waiting for a decree from the judge.

"I appreciate your honesty, Winry," Hawkeye said, then took the hand that gripped her arm and laid it to the bed. "Rest now, I'll come back in a few hours." Hawkeye went out, and shut the door behind her.

Winry looked at the door "I'm an idiot!" Winry sulked, biting the fleece.

Hawkeye exhaled, as if releasing the pressure within. The sound of ticking led her eyes to the wall, where the clock was hung, then rested her eyes beneath. There placed a phone. The bark snapped her thought and brought her attention at her feet, where a black dog sitting. Hawkeye blinked at her loyal companion and found that she had had her right hand hovering over the receiver. She jolted, her breath held still, until the barking pulled her thought back to the ringing phone. She picked up the receiver and pressed one end to her ear.

"Hello?"

_"Hawkeye?"_

"Commander..." Hawkeye did not expect to have such a relief for hearing his voice.

_"What's wrong?"_

She did not reply. It was very tempting to tell him her ordeal, that she was reaching her limit. She knew he would come to her, even if he had to throw away everything they had worked for.

_"Is everything all right?"_

"Just some small disturbance in the camp. People are scared, worried that they are going to get deported." She said, trying to keep her frustration at bay. A glance to the window distracted her.

_"I'll send more peacekeepers to you—"_

"No, Commander. More soldiers will only make them more anxious."

_"Are you safe?"_

"Thaw and Winry are with me. Kevin and Dr. Knox will come back soon enough. Don't worry about me. You have work to do in Central."

_"I'm just thinking..."_

"Sorry, Commander. I have to go. Will call you soon." She hung up and moved hastily to the door. Black Hayate followed suit.

As soon as she opened it, a woman's wail rang in the veteran's ears. Hawkeye rushed to the soldier, who shielded the old woman with his own body, blocking the old woman from going any farther. "What is going on?" Hawkeye asked.

"Ma'am..." The soldier said, but was cut off when the old woman ran towards Hawkeye. Thaw stepped in and pushed her back. A touch on his back prompted him to step away.

"Riza! Thank goodness you are here." The old woman sobbed, holding onto Hawkeye's arms tightly. "My daughter-in-law, Nisya, she's having a baby."

"I told her! Dr. Knox and Dr. Huskie are not here." The soldier behind the old woman said.

"Please, you need to help her! We don't know who else to go!" The old woman knelt.

Hawkeye looked around. It was black, except the vicinity of the house that were enlightened with sentry lamps. "There should be other doctors on call. Have you looked for them?" Hawkeye asked.

"They refused to go to her because she is outside the camp."

"And they made the right choice." The soldier secured the rifle over his chest. "Do you know how dangerous it is to wander outside at this hour? There could be wild beasts and rebels lurking around."

"We had no choice. For days we haven't had any food or fresh water. If we don't get out to look for something to eat and drink, we'll die!"

Hawkeye looked to the left then to the right. "You don't have enough men," she said, eyes on the soldier.

"Yes, we have order to guard this house."

"Please, Mrs. Shiva, stand up. I'll go with you," Hawkeye said.

"Ma'am!" Thaw called.

"I've made up my mind," Hawkeye supported the old lady to be on her feet. "Just wait for me," she told the old lady.

"You must know that you'll be on your own if you go with her," the soldier called out to Hawkeye, who had gone back to the house.

"Understood."

Thaw and Black Hayate chased after the veteran. Hawkeye went to her room, took out a bag, and hurriedly stuffed it with some towels.

"I'm going with you!" Thaw told.

From a drawer, Hawkeye took out a box and opened it. The metallic tool set glittered under the light. "No, Winry is still having a fever. You need to see that she recovers." Hawkeye closed the box, and put it into the bag.

"Let me go. You stay."

Hawkeye stood up, then slung the strap over her shoulder. "Do you know how to deliver a baby?"

Her bodyguard kept quiet. “What I do know is to protect you at all cost. That is my duty!"

"And you have done a good job. Trust me on this. I may have retired, but I can still put up a fight when needed. Right now, we are not helping anyone if we keep arguing." Hawkeye then walked past him. Holding out her hand, she commanded, "Black Hayate! Stay!"

The dog sat down, watching his mistress left the house and a man behind the door.

A hand slapped over his eyes. The other supported his waist. Thaw shook his head. As he uncovered his eyes, he found the canine watching him. "Why didn't you help me out?" 

Hayate tilted his head.

Obviously, Thaw had not known the Hawk's Eye enough.

"Wait, wait!" Thaw ran up to Hawkeye and Shiva. He stopped. A hand reached to the pistol under his coat. "Take this with you."

"You know that—"

"I know! Court order! You are not allowed to possess or carry firearms, blah, blah, blah..."

Hawkeye stared at Thaw, cuing the latter to drop his flippancy.

"Please..." Thaw implored, "I really can't lose my job."

The veteran obeyed and received the pistol. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she said. "Thanks!"

"Go," Thaw said, watching both women ran into the dark, "before I regret."

"Quick, she's near the river," said Shiva.

Hawkeye heard the sound of flowing water. It was quite a long hike into the dense woods. The veteran wondered if they were too late. The howling in the otherwise quiet night had made sure them not to slow down.

She came out from the bushes. The pregnant mother was sitting by the river. The veteran sprinted, unaware that she had stepped empty, and she fell into a hole. As soon as she regained her bearing, she heard loud screeching noise, prompting her to snatch the torch light that dropped on the ground.

There was a large solid cover loomed over her. In a single heavy thud, her world became pitch black. She heard nothing, except her heavy panting.

She was trapped.


	4. A Quest to Save His Queen

Engines were grunting, as if calling for actions. Their wait was almost over as the last cargo, in pellet, was wheeled into the truck sluggishly.

Troops marched in file. Soldiers sitting at the rear end of the truck extended their arm. They grabbed and lifted their brother-in-arms up into the transports.

Heavy boots clumped on the asphalt. They entered the shelter of the canopy, where the Commander stood. "All ready, Commander!" The grey haired lieutenant reported brightly, in salute.

The Commander looked at the red sky, captivated by the risen sun.

The lieutenant lowered his hand and rested it by his side. "Any second thought?" He watched the Commander's stoic face as the latter put on his peaked cap.

Receiving no answer, the lieutenant tilted his head just enough to level his sight to his superior's eyes, which were otherwise obscured by the cap. "We could—"

"Move out!" The Commander cried out.

The lieutenant's feet riveted to the ground. His eyes, however, followed the Commander, who had stepped out of the canopy to receive the bright radiance from the sun.

The lieutenant blinked.

Blue uniform glazed with gold light, a poised back, and gallant stride. There was an invisible fire burning on the Commander—an aura that the lieutenant once thought he would never see again. A smile escaped the lieutenant as he jogged to the Commander's six. He found himself in Hawkeye's shoes, watching silently at the Flame Alchemist's back.

Sharp screeching sound awoke her. Hawkeye put her hand over her forehead, eyes ached at the blinding light. Her lungs, however, welcomed the fresh air that was brought in along with the light. The buzz in her ears vanished, replaced by loud incoherent words. She forced herself to peer through the overwhelmingly bright light. Before long, something dropped by her feet. The veteran folded one arm over her mouth, hacking and coughing incessantly, as thick smog invaded her space.

Her opposition from the top pulled out gas masks from a bag and secured them firmly over their faces. One threw a rope into the hole; the other bound one end to a nearby tree trunk. At thumbs up, a man took the rope, guided himself into the hole, and slowly vanished into the thick fog.

Those who stayed at the top had only one mission—guarding the strained rope. They waited, and waited, until the rope relaxed and was strained again. All hands were on the rope, pulling it with all might. Someone loomed out from the smoke screen.

One of the men extended his arm to help his friend. Instead of just a firm grip, he was abruptly yanked and thrown into the hole.

Scream ensued.

Firearms pulled out.

Shots fired, so loud that it scattered the perching birds.

Hawkeye took the mask off and threw it aside, oblivious of the screaming. If proper medical attention was not given in time, the fallen men might lose their limbs. To the Hawk's Eye, they should be glad that they could feel pain, for now.

First thing came to her mind was to gather all weapons in sight, then the concealed. One of the pistols she recovered had a rough surface between the barrel and the trigger, as if the surface had been scraped with something pointed and sharp. Hawkeye quickly checked the rest. All in same condition.

Putting the weapons aside and keeping the one she received from Thaw in her hand, she removed the masks off her victims, and gave a good look at their faces.

"Who sent you?" The Hawk's Eye asked one of them. The tranquility in her voice contrasted her eyes that exuded unbearable pressure on her captive.

Again, the man blurted out a train of incomprehensible words. His reward was a strike across his face. Spit out blood, he looked at a gun barrel aimed between his eyes.

"I know you are hired mercenaries, so don't try my patience," Hawkeye warned.

The man glared at Hawkeye. "Then you should know that there is a bounty on your head. We are not the only one—"

Blood splattered on Hawkeye's shirt. The man she was questioning a second earlier leaned to his side and dropped to the floor. The veteran bolted away at once. Bullets flew by, barely missed her. Whoever wanted her to be captured had changed their mind.

"Did you find her?" Huskie asked.

The lieutenant shook his head. "No sign of the old lady and her daughter-in-law neither."

Thaw clenched his fists, eyes cast down, face twitching.

"Though, we did find blood near the upstream river."

"What?"

"Not sure whose blood... No body was found. It looks much more complicated than we thought. So, I've reported it to Central."

"She might have bumped into local bandits." Thaw said.

"Bandits don't lure the CIC's wife into the forest," Huskie said.

"Could be mercenaries. They don't do well after the old regime broke down," said the lieutenant. "It won't be a surprise that they are holding a grudge against the Commander."

"And since they couldn't get to him..." Thaw trailed off.

"They took the one he loves instead." Huskie ended with a plummet of silence.

"Wait, wait a minute!" Thaw broke out. "It still doesn't add up. She had been here for six months! Why now?"

Spencer glanced to his right, holding his breath. "Um... could this be the trigger?"

Both doctor and bodyguard moved up close to see what Spencer was looking at. It was a newspaper with the picture of Huskie and Hawkeye covered half the page, sprawled across the table.

That explained everything.

"Increase the search perimeter," Huskie voice shakened. "We must find her before it's too late!"

"Dr. Huskie, I understand your worry, but we simply do not have enough resources." The soldier laid his hand on Huskie's slouched shoulder. "I'm sorry, our hands are tied." The lieutenant knitted his brows.

"Not anymore!"

Huskie turned to the voice. Two men, one with blond hair and mustache, the other with sideburns, came into the tent. Hands in pockets, a wide grin flashed across the blond's face—a stark contrast to the disturbed hosts.

"Sir, this is a restricted area," Spencer stood in front of the blond.

A passing by black dog stole the human's attention, trotting casually to the blond stranger. When he was close enough, he stood on his hind legs, and rested his front paws on the stranger's chest, licking the latter's face as if it was a pie. The stranger chuckled, pulling the dog's paws back to the ground. "Good to see you too, Black Hayate!" The man ruffled the dog's soft black coat with his gloved hands.

The red array on the man's gloves caught the lieutenant's eyes. "Commander!" He saluted.

The blond and his companion removed the fake facial hair off their faces, along with the wigs. "You did well, Lieutenant," Mustang said, rising up. "Thanks to your timely report, we've safely delivered the cargo."

He was tackled at once, and dropped on his back with a loud thud.

"Riza is missing! And all you care about is the cargo?" Huskie cried out. 

Black Hayate barked at the doctor nonstop.

Mustang scowled at the doctor. There were three men in between them. Even so, he doubted that they could hold the doctor back any longer. "Lieutenant Spencer!"

Spencer turned his head to the Commander, an arm still clamping onto the doctor's.

"Hey Mustang! I'm talking to you!" The doctor shouted, exerting his weight to the arms wrapped about his torso.

The Commander rose to his feet, brushing the dust off his shoulders as if nothing happened. "Prepare for lock-down and seal the perimeter. Lieutenant Colonel Rachael Mustang is in command until my return," Mustang ordered.

"Yes sir!" Spencer reported.

"Who needs you?" Huskie softened tone diffused despair. "If you didn't come for her, why come at all?"

Mustang narrowed his eyes on the doctor. "We've brought you food and supplies enough to last for months. You should stay here, for your own safety." One step at a time, he moved up, never diverted his sight even a little from the doctor, until he was only a foot away from the angry man. "Can't risk to give them another bargain chip."

"So you knew..." Huskie hissed. Looking at the Commander's cold and distant eyes boiled Huskie's blood.

"I do have eyes and ears in the South." Mustang then turned to his back. "Lieutenant Falman..."

The grey-haired officer heeded the cue and exited the tent.

Feeling that the doctor had no longer tried to push through, Thaw let go and left the tent in a hurry. "Commander Mustang!" Thaw called.

Both military officers neither slowed their steps, nor pay their attention to the bodyguard.

"Where are you going?" Thaw asked.

"I'm bringing in the State Alchemists. This place needs to be purged for good."

"But what about your wife?"

Mustang stopped abruptly.

"Are you not going to find her?" Thaw's blood pressure surged when he found two pairs of eyes looking at him. "I know I had failed you..."

"Save the talk," Mustang turned away. His arm, however, was locked.

"Hell, you can fire me. I don't care. Just let me help find her," Thaw said.

The Commander's raven eyes narrowed, his arm was released.

"Her missing is not on you. So, don't feel that you have to redeem yourself."

"I'm still responsible," said Thaw. "The thought of her being in captive makes me shudder. How could you be so calm?"

Mustang blinked at that question. Did he seem calm? "One thing I learnt, after years of working with her, is to trust her. She grew up here. Every tree, every rock of this place she knew by heart. Last thing we need to worry is her survival skill."

"What if she doesn't make it this time?"

"Mr. Thaw!" Falman called.

"Then..." Mustang paused. "I will face the consequence… for the rest of my life." Mustang did not even flinch.

Thaw said nothing further, only looked at the Commander as if the latter was insane.

"Let's go!" Mustang turned around, kicking up dust. "They are waiting."

A loud groaning from the top brought Falman's eyes to the sky. A large grey blanket hovered over the camp.

"Storm's coming. Stay dry," Falman said. He too, left Thaw to follow the Commander to the gate.

She twitched a muscle. Under the big rock that stuck out from the slope, she barely had enough flat surface for her feet to step on. Below her was about thousands feet of abyss. The steaming volcano was unusually small in front of her. It would be over soon, if she kept herself still.

"Mrs. Mustang! We are here in peace. There is no reason to hide from us."

That never got old.

As if her thought was read, the sound of wailing newborn entered her ears.

"How about this? If you show yourself, I'll spare this child. Or, do you prefer that I throw him off the cliff?"

Correction, she hated it even more when they became creative.

"You can't blame the old lady. I know exactly how it feels like to be starving. You should thank me for doing the generosity by sparing her some food." The sentence ended with laughter. "I'm going to count to three. If you don't show up by then, this little guy's blood will be on you."

"One."

"Two."

"Three!" The man raised his arm, his fist loosened, and the bundle slowly slipped away.

"I'm here!" Her call turned all guns at her.

The man with blond spiky hair turned around to find Hawkeye standing in front of him with her hands high in the air.

"Take me, but spare the baby.”

The thug then whistled to his underlings. Two strong men approached their captive, frisked her. They took away the pistol hid under her shirt, and recovered a retractable knife from her boots.

"Very well, I'm a man of my word," The thug said, pulling in his arm that held the bundle. "But first—"

"Ah!" Hawkeye shouted as she found herself on the ground, leaning to her left.

"Sorry," the thug leader grinned, lowering his rifle. "No, I’m not. Have to make sure you don't run again."

The forest had not been more vibrant. Birds and wolves were the lead vocals; field crickets chimed in as all-time favorite percussionists. It would have been perfect to enjoy the orchestra, if she was in any other occasion.

Hawkeye looked to her left, then to her right. She squirmed, causing the clutches of brawn squeezed tightly around her upper arms. The muscle around her neck gave in, and she was seeing a pair of legs, dangling in mid-air while the ground passing underneath. Had she not lowered her head, she would have forgotten that her legs were still there. The fabric that covered from her knees down were soggy. The dark color of the fabric barely distinguished itself from the liquid it absorbed. The pain had significantly subsided, leaning heavily to dull tingling feel.

She looked up again, recognizing the growth along their journey was getting dense and thick. It seemed like they had come to the heart of the forest—a place she was warned not to go during her childhood.

Her ears received splashing sound of water as the men trudged their way through. Soon, light escaped them, replaced by gleaming fire from the torch. The deeper they went, the smaller the space.

Strong wind coming in opposite direction, washing away the stifling air. The chime of metal beating and the cries of human awoke the sleeping baby. With an open throat, he wailed.

"Damn, for someone your size, you sure cry very loud," the leader said, gripping onto the bundle as if he was holding a basket. He then thrust the baby to his henchman. "Take him away!"

"Where, Boss?" the lanky man asked.

"I don't know, his mother?"

"Yes, Boss." The man then left clumsily.

It seemed like they had entered an open space, yet surrounded by rocky cliff. Metal bars were installed along the naturally formed depression on the rocky wall. Inside it were men and women; some lying on the ground languidly, some hid themselves in the corners, others held onto the bars, looking at the newcomer with blank faces as though their hope to freedom dissipated again.

Those who held her by her arms followed their leader up through the unevenly divided stairs. Each step had its own flaw, either eroded into dents of different sizes, or cracked with large chunks missing. Despite the treacherous terrain beneath them, they moved around with ease.

"Welcome to my base, Mrs. Mustang." Hawkeye heard the leader said. "You are a very special guest, in fact, the only very important person we've invited." He stopped at a platform while his men pulled the metal chain down from the pulley.

Hawkeye saw an underling approached her with a pair of thick rusty shackles extended from the metal chain.

"Our gift for the honored guest."

And, her wrists were bound.

"Ah!" The leader said excitedly. "Perfect fit!" He then raised his hand slightly above his head, his index finger drew circles in the air. "Pull her up!"

The guard took the handle sideward and rowed it in counter-clockwise. As the metal chain wound in, it hauled Hawkeye by her wrists until she was several feet above ground. With no control over her weight against gravity, her wrists could only withstand that much force, before they dislocated.

"Now, shall we invite the Commander-in-Chief?"

"Hurry up, you morons! We need to move, now!" Screamed the man with a rifle in his hands. The labor scrambled to pack everything they could to the vehicles.

Unbeknown to them, a man swung a hammer of the size of a wrecking ball in his hand up. As it plunged to the exterior wall, a gush of air swirled in, engulfing everything in its course.

The gunman froze at the giant hole in front of him. Then came a crisp snap of fingers. Red lightning traveled through the hole, turned everything it touched into explosives. The gunman instantly sprang up, only to have a hard impact to the solid ground. His skin sensed the scorching heat while he frantically slapped his arm that caught on fire. Everyone else in the burning place scattered, crying and running away.

A shadow entered into the blazing heat. The gunman stiffened when he heard the boots thumped in a steady pace, each louder than the previous. Soon, he saw a face.

"Going somewhere?" Mustang asked. "I can give you a ride if you tell me the address."

Still lying on his back, the gunmen laughed. "The Lord is expecting you."

"The Lord?" Mustang raised his eyebrow. "For a ring leader, he has a quirk on name."

"He is no ring leader. He is our overlord. Everyone in the South bows to him. Not even you can touch him."

"You probably have been stuck in this desolate place for too long. For the record, I own this country, not to brag or anything."

"Go to hell, Roy Mustang! The Lord will crush you and your regime!"

"Oh yeah?" Mustang inched in with a loud stomp. "Now!" He looked at the gunman with his eyes narrowed. "If he wants me so badly, why didn't he come and get me?"

The gunman leered.

Through the view of binoculars, a blast set off from the roof, and the building crumpled, sending clouds of ashes to the air. Taking away the binoculars and kept it in his bag, he tightened the bandanna over his head, and sprinted uphill. "We got him! We got him!"

"Boss!"

A henchman walked up to the Lord and said, "We had him. He's dead!"

"Good." The Lord skipped his way to the highest ledge and shouted, "My brothers, we lost our homes and wages because Roy Mustang, the Commander-in-Chief of Amestris, saw us as parasites and a pain in his neck. He took our power, disbanded our traditions. For years, we have been hiding in this forsaken place, trembling in fear." His voice softened. "But no more!" He cried out. "No more shall we be afraid, because Roy Mustang is DEAD!"

Roars of triumph pierced Hawkeye's ears. Gleam vanished from her eyes. Her dry lips parted. Her head drooped forward languidly, as if her strength had drained from her.

"Grab your weapon. Arm yourself to the teeth. Let's teach the South our way and tell them the consequence of swearing allegiance to the military dogs!" The Lord bellowed.

The pack rushed to the armory, and equipped themselves with all the weapons they could carry.

The Lord locked his eyes on Hawkeye, then jumped down and landed on the platform. He rose to his feet and walked up to his priced captive. Supporting her chin and letting it rested on his index finger, he pressed his thumb lightly under her mouth, and pried it away from her chest.

The Lord frowned at her with his head tilted. He could see the weak ember in her eyes. "What's the matter? Are you mourning for your husband?" The Lord said mockingly.

Hawkeye exhaled audibly. "Have you found a body?"

"No, the explosives made sure to turn him into dust."

"Then," Hawkeye said, emphasizing it, "he is not dead!"

The Lord dropped her chin, taking a few steps back, eyes kept at Hawkeye's face. "Are you hallucinating?" He asked, eyes lowered and set to her knees. A sharp kick aimed to the fractured patellas elicited a long cry. "From blood loss, perhaps?" He asked.

Biting on her lower lip, eyes shut, Hawkeye wanted so badly to sever her nerves from her lower limbs. "If I were you..." She said as loud as she could, still trying in vain to contain the pain. "I will release the prisoners and surrender, before he burns you."

"Dream on, darling! Too bad, I won't be joining." The Lord then followed his men out. Through the tunnel, he told his right hand man, "Flood it!" The smile on his face was wiped off.

The clutch on the wall was pulled, and those who stayed behind heard something bellowed. Water spurted out of the cliffs, gushing waterfall of about the size of a football field.

On top of the hill were legions of men in every form, gnashing their teeth. They were the wolves, waiting for the Alpha to lead them in the hunt. Standing by at the bottom were the men and women in blue uniforms, cracking their joints as they waited for the enemy's first move.

The horns blared. Both forces charged at each other with loud battle cries, exerting dominance over their enemies.

State alchemists mutated the terrain to crush their enemies. The Chimeras—cunning and augmented in strength and agility—terrorized and disintegrated their victims to minced meat.

The dark sky cried and hailed rain to the battle field. A hammer crushed the mercenaries' skulls in one swing, obliterating it. Rockets and armor-piercing bullets flew at the hammer-wielder, only to be blocked by glittering silver wall.

Molten iron streamed down hill, burning and melting any organic materials that stood in its way, neither rocks nor stones survived. Those at downhill scattered to make way for the hot surge. Their comrades at the top fought on.

Overseeing the battle field, the Lord roared. He charged at the alchemists with a broad sword. The hammer took the blow, barely held it off before the blade pierced the Silver Moon Alchemist.

A soldier, in his raincoat stepped up.

"Roy Mustang..." The Lord recognized.

"We finally meet. Can't say that I'm sorry for leveling your lairs."

"We'll see about that!" The Lord jumped off and launched himself towards the Commander. The sword then struck empty.

Evading to left and right, Mustang dodged every attack that came at him.

"What's wrong? Can't make a spark?" The Lord taunted, sweeping the sword in circle. Trees fallen, but Mustang remained unscathed.

With brows pressed together, Mustang stepped away as the sword was thrust at him. Both hands grabbed on the wielder's upper arm, he dropped on his back, pulling his attacker down with him. A kick with both feet to the Lord's abdomen, and the Lord was off the ground. He crashed onto a large rock, head first.

"Someone once told me not to rely on my alchemy," Mustang said.

The Silver Moon took the sword dropped by the Lord and pressed her palms onto the blade. A twin metallic tubes, with flashing white lighting over it, was thrown to mid-air, then lodged onto a large palm.

"You think she is my weakness." Mustang stood next to the Lord's head. "Admit it. You have taken the wrong hostage."

The alchemist, who wielded a hammer, locked the metal tubes over the Lord's wrists.

"Does it even matter?" The Lord laughed. "In the end, I still win."

Mustang gritted his teeth as the Lord's laughter grew louder. A relentless clamor from the sky joined the sinister laughter, mocking those who clad in blue.

His patience ran out.

Grabbed the Lord by his jacket, Mustang slammed the thug against the rock. The hood over his head slipped to his back. "Where is she?!" Mustang bellowed at the thug.

"You'll never find her!" The Lord earned a fist to his cheek.

"Commander!" The State Alchemists called.

"Take this scumbag away and grabbed your gear!" Mustang ordered, eyes burning with rage. "We'll tear this place apart."

"Riza..." a weak voice came from Hawkeye's left. The shivering did not disguise the owner of the voice has it has a thick accent. "It's me, Shiva. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do this to you. They had my daughter-in-law and they told me they would kill her if I didn't bring you to them."

"Someone's coming. Just hang in there." Hawkeye said, barely audible, more like she was trying to convince herself than the old lady.

The pool slowly seeped into the prison cells. The captives withdrew until there was no more room for them to fall back.

A loud screech alarmed the prisoners. This time, the sound was very close to them. Perhaps, it was another breach of the cliff from the water pressure.

"Hawkeye?" Someone shouted.

"Please, help us!" The prisoners pushed against the bars, screaming and crying. Hands stuck out, they were trying in vain to grab whoever that had just intruded the place.

"Get everyone to safety," the Commander ordered.

Nodding their heads, the alchemists spread out.

"Step back!" An alchemist wielded his hammer, and punched it against the metal bars.

Silver Moon was more equipped for the rescue mission. A quick touch on the metals was all she needed to turn the metals to rust.

Mustang finally noted someone was hanging afar. "Hawkeye!"

Skipping through rocks and ledges, Mustang landed on the platform. His heart grew heavy when he saw the crimson puddle under her feet.

He shook his head. There was no time for emotions.

Mustang looked up. His eyes traced the chain to the pulley, then to the large reel with handle. He immediately grabbed the stick in his hands to slowly unwound the reel. Hawkeye descended steadily over time.

Mustang leaped at once to support the woman in his arms. He sat down, letting her back rest on his left arms, hands fumbled with the shackles on her wrists. Water invaded the dry platform and wet both of them, reminding him that the clock was ticking.

"Did I miss your grand entrance?"

His tensed muscles relieved at the feeble voice.

Looking at her eyes that barely opened, he forced a smile. "Yes, I was wondering why a certain blond hasn’t dropped at my feet." The shackled was freed from the metal chain. On one knee, he balanced both people's weight while he rose up, taking care not to agitate the casualty in his arms. "What is it this time? Please don't tell me it was a puppy."

As he trudged through the water, Mustang heard a sigh.

"A baby, newborn..."

Mustang almost stopped. He was expecting a woman or a child. A newborn was not in the list. He stole a glance to her eyes, hoping that she did not notice his sudden change of expression. He wanted to say 'Sorry', but it was not the right word. "That will do the trick," he said light-heartedly.

Hawkeye closed her eyes. It had been a while that she leaned her ear against his chest. She missed his heartbeat. "Sorry," she muttered. "For always being your burden."

Mustang felt a lump in his throat. In the end, she still beat him to say the word. "Didn't we agree to stop apologizing to each other?" He asked. "How about the oath we recited?"

"It’s a formality.” 

"It still binds," he said. "Besides, I'll carry you for the rest of my life, if it is what it takes to keep you safe."

A faint smile escaped her. He too smiled at her.

"Even if I’m a fat woman?"

He never saw that coming. Why women just loved to ask 'what-if'?

"You know I'll carry you, no matter how heavy you are," he said. "Keep it under four hundred pounds though. Else, I'll have to ask Armstrong to help me."

It was hard to stifle their laughter. Was there not a saying that 'laughing is the best medicine'?

She could no longer feel her knees. Her arms had disowned her. The cliffs were crumpling on them. The water just reached waist-level. But, she could not feel much safer.

"Commander, watch out!" Mustang heard Silver Moon shouted at him.

The Commander took a step back, just in time before a large stone dropped on them. A large rift appeared between him and the ledges to the exit. With Hawkeye still in his arms, he could not swim to the exit. Even if he could, he would not know if there would be an undercurrent.

"Go!" He told his subordinate at far opposite. "We'll catch up!"

Silver Moon saluted. "Good luck, Commander!" She then turned her back and ran into the tunnel.

Mustang looked around and up. He could see the sky through the narrow hole about thirty to forty feet away. The problem was they could never make their escape through it without getting drowned. He then looked at his wife. "Hawkeye, I need your help."

He could see her frowning at him. "Use the Eye. That's the only way we can get out of here," he said.

"How? I'm not an alchemist. I don't even know how to activate it."

She had a point. Since it was too late to do a crash course, Mustang would have to activate it himself, through opening the Gate.

"Close your eyes and stay still," Mustang told her. "Trust me."

She did. No question asked.

He gently lowered her to the water and release one arm from her. With only arm to hold onto her, he turned her so that her back was against his chest, keeping her head above the water. He then bit his finger, and drew an array over her forehead.

He then pressed his fingers on it. Bright light shone from her forehead. Mustang felt a force pushed him away. There she was, lifted up and high. Her golden strands sprawled over her shoulders. Her eyes flung opened, emitting pure light.

Mustang had no idea what to expect, but he knew that this was their only chance.

The shackles on Hawkeye's wrists shattered to pieces. She raised her hand towards him, and he was brought up and off the water. Large whirlpool convoluted up. In one gush, it burst out, bringing Mustang along with it. His cry was insignificantly soft compared to the sound of the giant fountain that spurted out of the hill.

The rain had stopped. However, the shower returned.

Mustang choked, hands feeling the solid ground beneath. He groaned as the pain sensors flared up from top to toe. His eyes were wide open, staring at a woman's face.

"Well, you do like to make a scene, don't you?" She said.

"Rachael?"

"I was told that you were caught up with something. So, I thought I have to come see it myself." The lieutenant colonel then pulled Mustang up.

"I think I might have broken my back!" Mustang choked. His face was flushing red.

"Good one, Uncle Roy. Where is your wife?"

Mustang blinked, looking to the left, then to the right. There was no one else. "Oh no!"

White light pierced the dark. Wind bent the trees. The people could barely stood on their feet without being blown away.

"Did you forget to tell me something?" Rachael shouted at the Commander, hands holding onto the cedar.

"Yeah!" Mustang cried out. He too hid himself behind a boulder. How do you tell your niece that your wife had gone ballistic?

"Care to elaborate?" Rachael asked.

No time. Not important. Didn't care.

Mustang stood up again, bracing himself against the wind, he plodded carefully as he went uphill, where the light was. Thankfully, he was not far away before he could see Hawkeye. She was standing still, totally unaffected by the air current that rushed rampantly around her, or her broken knees.

"Hawkeye! Hawkeye!" Mustang shouted.

No response.

"Riza! Honey! Sweetheart!" Mustang then found himself rolled onto his back and slammed to a cedar.

"She doesn't like the way you call her," Rachael said. It seemed like the lieutenant 

colonel too had made it to the source.

How he wished he could laugh at that!

Rising back to his feet, and Mustang approached his wife once more. His steps became unsteady, partly due to the wind, but mostly because the earth shook. He held on tight to a nearby cedar, crying out, "You have to control it, Hawkeye! You are going to kill everyone if you don't!"

The earth split.

"Let me handle her," Rachael said, her hands drawn to her chest, holding and collecting water into a giant ball.

"Don't!" Mustang cried out.

Too late, the water ball launched and transformed into ice sickles. As they were about to impale Hawkeye, strong wind blew the ice sickles away, redirecting the sharp ends towards Rachael. The lieutenant colonel quickly ducked, letting the ice broken to pieces after they hit obstructions.

"Hawkeye, listen to me! Take control of the Eye! Make it submit to your will!" Mustang shouted.

He then felt an emptiness beneath his feet.

He fell.

He saw the time he shared with Hawkeye, the tears they shed, and her smile.

_ Goodbye, my love. _


	5. Till Death Do Us Part

_The door was opened. A man came out. The stubble around his chin stretched. His head raised, allowing the reflection on the lenses glazed before his eyes. He was used to break the news to the family. Somehow, facing the husband of his favorite student, he only gaped._

_His wordless expression struck his patient's spouse with lightning._

_As a breeze brushed his left, the doctor turned to his back, gingerly pulled the doorknob to himself. A picture of the man sitting by the bed, holding a hand into his, was registered in the doctor's head._

_The doctor breathed out. Moment such as this that made him not believing in God._

_Behind the door, the man paused, giving in to the fidgets in his head. He just lost his fourth child. It seemed like its soul had returned to bring its mother with it. The man pondered on many things that he should not have done and the deals he should not have made._

_"It is not your fault."_

_The man looked up, tears trickled along his face._

_"We tried, and we failed. That is just how life is." She removed her hand off his and wiped away the moisture that marred her husband's face. "Please don't make it a regret," she let out, "because it isn't."_

_The man could not speak. He wanted to refute her, but he was choking with tears. Why? Why did he always let her slip through his hands?_

_"Look."_

_The soft voice brought him back to her. Pink cherry blossoms were showering outside the window._

_"They are beautiful," she said._

_Music was played, and she looked back. A palm was shown before her. "Shall we?" He asked._

_She gradually sat up, taking his hand, letting him lead while she followed._

_"How long has it been?" He asked._

_"After Bradley's death? There hasn't been any celebration." She looked at him fondly._

_"I thought we went to a few charity balls."_

_"You mean the ones where the generals' and dignitaries' wives fought for your hands?"_

_"I see," the man grinned. "You are jealous."_

_"Yes," she said, with not a tint of blush on her. "Very!"_

_He then pulled her hands and guided them to his waist. While she embraced him, he wrapped his arms over her back. They were leaning their chins on each other's shoulder. It was relaxing._

_"Why didn't you tell me?"_

_"Because I know it was business."_

_It was._

_"No business is more important than my wife."_

_"But nothing is more important than my husband's career."_

_The man tightened his embrace, swaying along with the rhythm. He did not want to let her go._

_"Promise me..." She sounded like she was begging._

_"Anything," he said._

_"Don't do anything stupid."_

_The man breathed in. "Well, I'm a big child," he said casually. "Can a child be rational?"_

_"You know what I mean." Her statement demanded him to return to reality._

_The man did not want to answer. It was too solemn. No doubt they had thrown various worst-case scenarios to each other. But, nothing prepared them for eternal departure._

_"Roy..." She said the code. That was how she grabbed his attention._

_He gave in._

_"I promise," he ended with a long breath out._

_Warm air grazed his right ear. The music came to its finale. He held his wife as tightly as he could. All he wanted was to hold her in his arms, until eternity._

_That never happened._

_When his right ear stop tingling, his legs bolted to the floor, having to face the cruelty of time._

_In one swoop, he brought his wife's legs up so he could carry her in his arms, and laid her on the bed. He undid the buttons on his shirt, exposing his chest, and allowed his right hand on his chest, the other reached to the sleeping woman's cold cheek._

_Blue light invaded every corner of the room._

_"Hawkeye... Hawkeye..."_

_The wife opened her eyes. Her view clouded with sheer light. She was hearing him, but not seeing him, perhaps due to the grogginess. "Commander?" Her call was faint._

_"Come back to me, Hawkeye."_

_He was calling for her._

_"I... can't."_

_She wanted to._

_"You can," he said. "The Eye, it will sustain you."_

_"No," she said in soft protest. "You'll die."_

_But, her advice was unheeded._

_"Live, Hawkeye..."_

"No!" Hawkeye shouted. She bent forward, eyes shut tight, hands gripping her throbbing knees as if there were thousands needles attacking them.

"You're awake!"

Turned her head sharply to the left, she opened her eyes wide.

There stood a man in black suit, hands crossed in front of his waist. His face was as if he had received a birthday present.

"Thaw?" She blurted out, recognized that clean face. "Where am I?"

"You're back to your residence in Central. How do you feel?"

Hawkeye blinked in confusion. Her eyes scanned her surroundings. The dresser that she and Mustang chose was at her left. Other than the bed, and the wardrobe she brought from her old apartment, there was no other furniture and decoration.

As she set her eyes to her right, where the windows were, she had a full view of the cherry blossom grove, which had colored the earth with red, orange, and yellow.

Home. She wondered how she could not recognize it much earlier.

Hawkeye held her breath, chin touching her chest, eyes close, lips pressed together.

"Are you all right?"

Hawkeye ignored the question. Instead, she raised the edge of the blanket and pulled it away, completely uncovered her legs.

Her knees were bandaged. The right one looked swollen, probably due to the bulk of a brace that strapped from her thigh to her ankle.

"The doctor said that they are healing well, though the injury on your right knee was more severe than the left," said Thaw.

"The Commander, where is he?" Hawkeye asked, as if what the bodyguard had said was irrelevant.

Thaw looked at his client's serious face, with a hole between his lips. "He... the Commander..."

"Thaw..." Hawkeye called, wondering why her bodyguard had averted his eyes from hers.

Knock, knock, knock!

"It's Gracia. I'm coming in!" The muffled voice said.

The door opened. An elegant lady in her short bob hair was at doorstep, looking at Hawkeye like the latter's presence was not expected. "Riza, you're awake!" The widow said as she sat by her bed.

"Gracia... why are you here?" Hawkeye asked.

"To take care of you of course!” Hughes' widow sounded as sweet as ever.

"I'll leave you two some privacy." Thaw excused himself, closing the door as he left.

"Is Valerie on leave?" Hawkeye asked again.

The mention of the family helper put a stump to the conversation.

Gracia sighed. "She was sent away."

"The Commander did that?"

"No, the military."

Hawkeye blinked. Since when the military has the authority to discharge a domestic helper?

Gracia noticed the confusion written on Hawkeye's face.

"What happened to him?"

That question had facilitated the process for Gracia.

"Riza, you have to calm down, all right?" Gracia squeezed Hawkeye's shoulder.

The veteran's eyes widened. She knew what the widow was going to tell her.

For a few seconds, her breath stopped, then turned to panting, each heavier and heavier, as if oxygen was depleting around her.

"Riza," Gracia stood up, leaning forward to hold the veteran's upper arms.

Like streams after rainfall, tears rushed from Hawkeye's eyes.

She wailed, so loud that the closed room could not contain. Her manifesto for her shattered heart to be heard.

She was there, staring at his sixteen-by-twenty-inches portrait. Even in a black-and-white picture, he still looked as handsome as she knew him.

There was no coffin, or military ceremony. Not because his body was not recovered, but his country decided to make a public burial, which was held a week before she regained consciousness. For her sake, a private memorial service was held.

They thought that could help her mourn.

She thought she was attending her own funeral.

Friends, relatives, and soldiers—all came to take her hand, and offered their condolences. She could not speak, not even the word 'thank you'. She had her eyes glued to her husband's portrait, lifeless, still as a stone. Even when her husband's niece came to her, accused her, in the middle of the service, of killing her husband, she remained still throughout the service.

The widow of her husband's best friend and the former adjutant of the CIC helped her with the luggage—a briefcase with clothes, and a dog. A tall blond with the smell of cigarette wheeled her out, and he apologized for his breath.

They brought her to an apartment, which became her new home. The place where she and her husband had been living was vacated, to yield to the new CIC—the Ice Queen of Briggs. She was told that after the audit, all personal effects would be returned, in a few months time.

The pantry was filled, fridge was loaded, other necessities were carefully arranged so they would be within reach. She watched her friends headed to the door. She was reminded to call if any help was needed.

Her husband's former adjutant froze, looking at her with teary eyes.

She wanted to comfort him, but had none to offer.

In the end, the man had to be dragged out, with the tall blond's arm hooked around the former's neck. She could hear his cry even after the door was closed.

She turned the left wheel, then pushed both wheels forward. She started the stove, pulled out two bags from the pantry, and boiled the water. She poured out some dry, yellow crescents out, from one bag, to the boiling water. The black dog was beside her, sitting down with his ears perked as she poured out the delicious brown biscuits to a metal bowl. He waited patiently as she set the bowl to the floor.

When she was done, the dog remained poised, eyes watching his owner as she put a ceramic bowl into the oven. The dog heard ringing, the smell was registered in his olfactory. His owner was by the table near the stove.

He was watching her closely.

"Eat," she said. That was the only word she had spoken all day.

The dog were up on his four legs, head dropped to the bowl, and munched his food with wagging tail.

Watching the dog for a while, she picked up a spoon from the ceramic bowl, and began feeding herself. As she was chewing, her thought drifted, reminisced the life she led three years ago as a single woman with a dog, lest the wheels by her sides.

The ringing of the bell sprang her up from bed. The jerk of her knees brought tears to her eyes.

Yet, the ringing did not stop.

Her loyal dog stood by her bed. She slowly oriented herself, lowering her legs to the floor, a hand grabbed an armrest of the wheelchair. Hardest part came when she pulled herself to the wheelchair with gritted teeth.

Finally, it was over.

She had not a second to spend on reliving the difficult feat she had pulled.

Bent over to unfold the footrests, and positioned her legs one by one, she rolled the wheels, made it to the door, and opened it.

"Riza Hawkeye?" Two military police stood at her doorstep.

"What is this about?" She scowled.

"The Council has summoned you." The military police unfolded a paper, and showed the written content at her face.

She took the paper and read it.

"You have two hours," said the military police. "We'll wait."

She reversed the wheels to pull herself back, and slammed the door.

Her next ordeal...

Brushing teeth was considered simplest. Washing hair was cumbersome as she had to bend to her side so that her head was over the tub. Cleaning the body and changing took longer than she had expected. Even though she did the best she could, she still felt not as clean as getting a shower. Drying and combing her hair turned out to be the only thing she found the same when she was still mobile.

The bell rang again.

She spent too much time cleaning and changing, leaving not a second to feed herself, or her dog.

Nonetheless, she had to go.

She could not pay attention. Her stomach was groaning. And her dog... she hoped that he was fine alone at home.

"Miss Hawkeye!"

She looked up, realizing the members of the council were staring at her.

Right, she was Miss Hawkeye once again.

"What is your decision?" The same person who called her, asked.

"What decision?" She asked innocently.

The members of the council frowned disapprovingly.

"Miss Hawkeye, the Council found the power of the Eye was too dangerous to be in the hands of a civilian with no knowledge of alchemy. As a matter of fact, your late husband, the former CIC, died because you could not control the power. The Council is now giving you two options: either life sentences, or be reinstated and serve in the State Military. What would be your decision?"

Reinstate? What were they expecting from a crippled soldier?

"Miss Hawkeye," the chair said, leaning forward. "You have to decide. Now." He emphasized the last word.

The choice was simple.

"Miss Hawkeye..."

She just hoped Gracia would adopt Black Hayate.

"Life sentence!" She blurted out. "I chose life sentence."

The gavel struck. Those present at the hearing clamored as the military police pushed Hawkeye away.

It was not as hard as she thought—a solitary room, medical care, food, at the cost of freedom. 

Not that she could move a lot anyway.

"We are going to appeal."

She watched the grey-haired man sitting by her bed, sounded resolute.

"Lieutenant Falman," she looked at him.

The lieutenant straightened his back. His eyes lit with excitement. "Yes, Colonel Hawkeye.”

He still could not drop her former title from his mouth.

"Please ask Gracia to adopt Hayate. If she doesn't want him, find him a good owner," she said.

"Colonel..." Falman slouched his back, frowning sadly. "Why don't you want to be reinstated?"

She lied down, resting her head on the pillow, eyes closed. "I'm tired," she said.

"Of the military?" The lieutenant asked.

"Everything." Her voice was soft.

The lieutenant opened his mouth, and closed it back. He stood up and knocked on the metal door. As he walked out of the cell, he looked back, sighing, wondering if the sun would rise again.

Waking up in the middle of the night, she was gnawed by heartache, like every other night, for no reason. She tilted to the right. A glimpse to the floor set her eyes on the box. Thinking that her husband's former adjutant might have left it there, she reached her hand for it, and opened it to see what it was.

The scent of cherry blossom imbued the air. Tears fell on the heap of flowers.

She held onto it, until the next morning.

"Atten—HUT!"

The soldiers snapped their left feet in, arms locked, hands in fists.

"HAND SALUTE!"

They threw their right hands up by their temples.

Someone entered the wide space formed between the two ranks. Hands pushed the wheels forward, blond hair tied up in a clip, the officer moved up and halted at the main entrance, where the generals were standing.

The officer put up her hand in salute. The generals too returned the courtesy.

"Colonel Hawkeye," the new CIC said, lowering her hand. "Glad to have you back in that uniform."

A few weeks had passed since she was reinstated, and the military succeeded to foil a major human trafficking ring, thanks to the intelligence gathered by her task force.

Words spread quickly. People were talking about the unsung hero. The press was looking for the disabled officer who led the task force. Others thought that it was a conspiracy from the military to fool the public.

The higher-ups were unimpressed by the nation-wide focus on the colonel, but did not resist the credit she brought on them. As long as she continued to carry a low profile, they would not make much noise. Besides, someone had to do the dirty job.

Despite all, life was back to normal. Her knees had gained strength. She was no longer confined to a wheelchair, only forearm crutches for support when she moved around.

At work, her subordinates often saw her looking out through the windows, peering at the sky. Other times they would see her sitting behind her desk, face twitching as if she was in pain. No one, however, had the bravery to ask her how she was doing, except Captain Maria Ross, who would either bring a cup of tea, or tell the colonel of the time.

Off work, she was mostly at her apartment, with her dog. She was not as sociable as before, but at least she was out of her grief.

Or so she thought, until that file came to her.

The captain brought it in, face looking disturbed.

She snatched the file from the captain's tight grip, and opened it. In it were profiles of those involved in the abduction of the refugees.

Before she heard the captain explained, she came to an old man's headshot.

From that second onward, She was unusually agile, taking the file with her and left. Not even the captain could stop her.

She came to the gate of AMMAX Four—Amestris' Maximum Security Prison Number Four. The warden, however, refused to let her enter, insisting for signed approval from the CIC. The Hawk's Eye never took no for an answer. She forced her way in, determined to get her answer.

The warden yielded eventually, and allowed the guards to bring the prisoner to her.

She met him again.

Her grandfather.

He snickered at her as the guards forced him down onto a chair.

While she doubted that the old man still had any connection to the outside world, she reserved the possibility that he could have had the crime organized before he was imprisoned.

He jeered, asking her how she got herself into those two sticks that wrapped around her arms.

Last but not least, he asked about her husband.

Her heart quivered.

And he saw it.

The old man widened his grin, asked if her husband had died.

She grabbed the file, and pushed it across the table, as if the file's weight had enough inertia and speed to kill the old man.

He knew what she wanted, and defied the norm by cooperating with her without demanding anything. After mindlessly flipping through a few pages, he admitted that he was the inspirator to the crime.

That was when she realized he was playing her.

Regretted, she called the guards.

As the old man was brought away, he did not forget to call her out by saying how disappointed he was on her, that she was just like her mother, betrayed him for men.

And that was her morning, after a full twelve hour night shift.

She returned home and had a quick meal.

While she was cleaning the dishes, a plate slipped through her hands, broken to pieces after it hit the floor. She adjusted her weight on the crutches, and slowly bent over to pick up the shattered plate.

Sunlight touched the glossy surface on the broken plates. She was staring at the reflection of her face, watching the gloomy complexion on it turned to wrath.

The sharp piece was then hovering over her wrist, before moving to the side of her neck, where her carotid artery underlaid.

She could end this, and it would be over.

"Whoof! Whoof!"

She threw away the ceramic from her hand, and elicited a clink from the sink.

She shook her head, seemingly to get rid of everything in her head.

Pulling a chair out, she sat down, smiling sadly at the black dog. He approached her, rested his jaw on her thigh, and let out a soft whimper. With her back bent, she wrapped her arms around the dog's neck, and touched her cheek on the dog's skull affectionately.

She straightened her back, after a clamor in the corridor interrupted them.

She took the crutches, and went to the door. When she finally opened it, no one was there, not even a ghost.

The oddness brought her feet back in. She figured she might have been too tired after pulling off several days of night shift, and decided to turn in.

Bad decision. She woke up In the middle of the night, watching her dog on hyperactive mode.

Worried that the bark would stir the neighbors, she took a leash and hooked it on the dog's collar. Grabbed her pistol and a coat, she thought she could use some fresh air too, and they headed out, for a stroll on the quiet street.

It was counterintuitively soothing to meet the chill, perhaps due to her inactivity on the outside world.

Snow skipped Central again, even in second month of the year.

Her gait was slow, and her arms were sore. Still, she persisted, as if she had a destination in mind.

Eventually, they came to a park, where a statue of a war hero was erected. She reached for her holster under her coat.

"There is no need for that, Colonel." A man walking up to her. "I'm just a messenger."

She looked at him in askance. The man had a black robe, as if he was a man of religious. "From who?" She asked. "And, do I know you?"

"You don't know me, but everyone was talking about the colonel who had saved many," he said. "Besides, standing in front of the late CIC's statue in the middle of the night did give you away." He then stood beside her. "To answer your first question. I am a messenger from the One who is in control, the Creator of Heaven and Earth," he said.

The dog growled at the stranger.

"Black Hayate," she said. The dog became still. Turning her eyes back to the monument underneath the statue, she asked, "You are here to save my soul? In the middle of the night?"

"Body and soul, if you believe. And yes, when you come to my age, you will find yourself more often than not wandering outside due to insomnia. Even so, I figure that there are some lost souls out there for me to minister at this hour." The man grinned proudly.

She knitted her brows together, said, "I don't know what to believe anymore."

"Oh trust me, you know. I'll just leave you to Him." The messenger left abruptly, after bidding her goodbye.

As she was far away from all intrusion, she looked up to the statue before her, and said, "Did you hear that, Commander?" she asked. "He really thought that I need a savior."

There was a long pause. It was not like she was expecting a statue to answer her anyway.

"You said you would carry me for the rest of your life." She frowned. "How could you stand here and watch? How could you?" She gripped tightly on the crutches, feeling betrayed.

It felt like yesterday, when he told her to trust him. And then, she was left with a rigid statue.

"I, Roy Mustang—"

That voice... She turned to her back, almost lost her balance.

"... take you, Riza Hawkeye, to be my wife—"

Her eyes widened.

"...to have and to hold from this day forward,"

His face and the blue uniform on him became visible under the light.

"...for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health,"

And, he came to her.

"...to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

He stopped, only inches away from her.

They looked at each other, as if time stopped. White crystals were falling from the sky, landing softly on the couple. The dog wriggled his snout at the touch of the snow.

"Commander..." She smiled bitterly at him.

He remained unfazed. "Colonel Riza Hawkeye, prepare to receive order from the CIC!" He commanded.

She poised her back as straight as she could, eyes looking squarely. "Colonel Riza Hawkeye, at your service, Commander!" she said.

"In view of your act of valor in saving thousands of lives and loyal service to the State Military and the country of Amestris, I now promote you Brigadier General, effective immediately," Mustang said, "Congratulations, Brigadier," Mustang smiled. "You have passed the test."

Hawkeye looked at him. Her parted lips and longing eyes wanted to tell him that she had so much to say.

"Hawkeye..." He called her softly.

She blinked her eyes.

Air seethed in through his gritted teeth, and he shouted, "How dare you try to take your own life?!"

Hawkeye lowered her head, accepting his reprimand silently.

"Hayate..."

The dog looked up to meet Mustang's eyes.

"Thank you for saving her." His voice filled with gratitude. The dog replied with a bark.

Mustang then pried Hawkeye's left hand from her crutch, exposing the red skin on the palm.

"Look at you," His voice became gentle, and he slid the crutch off her arm, snatching the other crutch in her right hand in one quick yank.

Her legs gave in.

But she was off the ground, knees on his left forearm, back on his right forearm—he was carrying her.

"Commander!" Hawkeye protested.

"Stay still," Mustang said, setting off as men in black suit joined them, like the escorts to the king and queen. "I'll carry you, always."

She gazed at the right half of his face, noticing his brow had pressed down on his eye, how he portrayed himself as a reliable man to depend on.

"Commander..." she called him gently.

"Ow—!"

His knees buckled and kissed the ground. His mouth was wide open after air was punched out of his lungs.

His bodyguards rushed to him, wondering what happened.

"What... did you... do.. t..that... for?" He wheezed out.

Still lying in Mustang's arms, unharmed, Hawkeye held her tightly clenched right fist over Mustang's chest, in closed eyes. Her legs might be weak, but the strength on her arms had increased tremendously, thanks to the crutches she used to move about.

"You didn't think I would let you off the hook, did you?" She hissed. The skin around her temple twitched. "After lying to me?" She growled.

Those who gathered around them watched awkwardly, not knowing how to react.

"Right... my fault," Mustang said.

Then, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms over his back tightly.

"I thought I killed you..."

He felt her shivering. The soft fabric on his shoulder was stained with tears.

Mustang exhaled. "Let's get you home... our home."

A woman, with braided blond hair, walked out of her room, jumped when she found a man had came in.

"Sorry, Valerie," Mustang whispered. "Did I wake you?"

"No, sir." She covered her snout, eyes turned to the woman in the man's arms seemingly asleep. Lowering her hands, she asked, "Is she okay?" Her eyes were telling him that she was worried.

"Nothing to be worried about. Go back to sleep," he said, keeping the volume as low as possible.

Valerie's eyes just could not leave the woman in Mustang's arms, noticing how the latter had been clinging onto Mustang.

The sleeping woman squirmed, withdrew her chest further, and turned her face to be fully covered by Mustang's shoulder.

"I'll get a warm blanket," she said, her back turned, ready for a sprint.

"Valerie," he called, stopping her. "Just let me handle this, okay?"

Valerie nodded her head in hesitance. "Sir," she said. "Don't let her go this time." A faint smile escaped her face.

Mustang froze as Valerie went back to her room. The black dog that followed him into the mansion, however, had climbed up the stairs. Mustang looked below. His wife had muffled her face with his black trench coat.

He brought her to the second floor, where their room was. Their dog had been waiting for them, circling on a spot in front of their bed as the couple came in.

Gingerly, Mustang laid his wife on the bed. She was sound asleep.

He smiled.

It was very soothing to watch her sleeping, the rising and falling of her chest were as waves returning to shore.

Mustang imprinted his lips on Hawkeye's forehead, noticing that she had never been easily stirred whenever he was around.

The Commander straightened his back, moving away. He quickly stood still, as something had caught his coat.

"Don't make me run after you, because I can't."

It sounded bitter, but it served the purpose.

Mustang sighed. He turned slowly to find a hand still gripping the edge of his trench coat. His eyes then traced the hand to Hawkeye's face. Her eyes told him that she was still being sullen, despite she had kept it to minimal, and she was demanding him to appease her.

It was the first time he saw her acting that way—his pragmatic Hawkeye was indulging to her desire.

"Please... Just this night," she implored.

Mustang grabbed her hand and removed it from his coat.

Hawkeye watched him walked away, expecting him to go for the door. Instead, the Commander slipped the coat off his shoulders, and hang it up. He then returned, laid beside her, and gently pulled her to himself.

The temperature dropped drastically in the next four hours, but the couple had never been more warmer, in each other's arms, knowing in the morning they would return to be the king and queen they had sworn to be.


	6. Mustang's Third Queen

_He ran as fast as he could, frequently glanced below, at the pale face he was taking with. The speed of him charging made everyone dispersed. Still, he ran into an incoming cart, overturning it._

_"What the heck?" Knox said, coming out from one of the tents. Standing behind him was Huskie. The young doctor was petrified by the bloody load that Mustang was carrying._

_"She... she isn't healing," Mustang looked aghast._

_Huskie moved forward and took out a pocket pen torch. Using his index finger and thumb, he spread the eyelids of the woman in Mustang arms, and shone light on the eyes, one after the other. "She's in shock," Huskie took over Mustang's burden._

_Mustang watched both the physicians gone back into the tent. He did not know how long it had passed until he found himself sitting beside a makeshift bed._

_"We've removed the bullets in her knees and put splints on her legs. Nothing life-threatening. With that being said, the damage on her right knee is quite severe. We'll keep monitoring her condition, for a month, at least, before we can evaluate if she has lost any motor functions in that knee," Dr. Knox said._

_"Mustang," Huskie called, removing the surgical gloves off his hands. "When you said 'she isn't healing', what did you mean?"_

_Dr. Knox noticed Huskie's eyes were glaring at Mustang. On the other hand, Mustang did not seem to pay attention to anything else except the person lying on the bed._

_Mustang's attitude made the younger doctor blowing his top._

_"I gave her the Eye," Mustang suddenly spoke. His response somehow held off Huskie's anger._

_Dr. Knox kept quiet. While he did not know what 'The Eye' referred to, he figured his student, the younger doctor, might know._

_"It's been keeping her alive," Mustang continued. Pain was written on Mustang's eyes. As if covering his weakness, Mustang brought his hand over to his forehead, obscuring his eyes._

_"What the hell is going on?" Huskie grunted. "Answer me, Mustang!" He shouted._

_"Dr. Knox," Mustang called. "Do you remember the last house call you made in Central?"_

_The older doctor's face became pale. "Kidney and liver failure... I had never seen one survived more than a week... except her." Knox turned to Mustang. "You bastard..." He forced a smile to cover his fear. "You had to be an utter nutjob to pull off a human transmutation."_

_"No!"_

_Knox returned his focus to Huskie._

_"He didn't transmute her," the brown-haired doctor said. "Any human transmutation is doomed to fail, but transferring the Eye..." Huskie trailed off. "Compatibility aside, you could have gotten yourself killed."_

_"Tell me, Huskie." Mustang faced the younger doctor. "Why didn't the Eye heal her this time?"_

_Huskie thought for a while, yet no answer came to him. "Though I have studied the Eye for many years, its full abilities remained unknown. Judging from the recent strange weather and the earthquake… You had it activated?" Huskie then waited for a reply. None was given. "With that much energy drained..." The doctor trailed off as he saw the void on Mustang's face._

_Mustang remained mum. He simply did not have the strength for anything else._

_"Commander!" The lieutenant barged in. Following him into the camp were a group of soldiers in black uniforms, surrounded the bed, including Mustang._

_One of them stepped up, said, "Commander Mustang, the Council has summoned you." He then passed Mustang a piece of letter. "You are to return to Central immediately and be present for the hearing."_

_Falman managed to break the circle, and whispered to Mustang as the latter stood up. "They knew.”_

_Mustang, on the other, was not disturbed at all. He said, "You'll have my full cooperation."_

_"Commander!" Falman called, prepared to step in._

_"Stand down, Lieutenant," said Mustang._

_The leader of the black uniforms then turned his eyes to the unconscious woman behind Mustang. "Take her!" He ordered._

_Four of them moved to each corner of the bed. One of them reached out their hand, but was held off at the wrist._

_Everyone took out their firearms. The clicking on the safety pushed everyone to the verge._

_After glancing to left and right, Lieutenant Falman gritted his teeth. It was one against dozens of black uniforms._

_"What do you think you are doing?" Knox asked, a hand still gripping onto the wrist of a black uniform, undeterred by the aggravated situation he was in._

_The leader of the black uniforms then found a pair of eyes staring dagger at him._

_"Don't!" Mustang hissed._

_"I don't care how you soldiers do things but don't you dare mess with my patients. Here, I'm in charge!" Knox roared._

_The leader looked at the doctor, then at Mustang. It was not the first time that his presence was not welcomed. Hence, he did not feel the need to withdraw, neither to draw blood._

_"Commander, we are merely carrying out orders from the Council." The leader said. "Please don't make this anymore difficult than it is." His face remained cold and expressionless._

_"Did you not hear what Dr. Knox said? She has just been out of the surgery and should not be moved!" Huskie protested._

_"Rest assured, doctors." The leader looked at Knox, then to Huskie. "We have a medical team on board. They will take good care of her."_

_"Medical team my ass! They are not even here!" Knox grumbled._

_"Dr. Knox!" Mustang said, refraining the older doctor. "Let me make this straight, Marshall." Mustang scowled at the leader. "I'll hold you responsible, should anything happen to her."_

_Knox recognized that he could no longer prevent the transfer. He grunted, "Damn it!" He withdrew his hand and put it on his head, scratching it. "Pull out the stretcher and follow my orders!" He shouted at the black uniform standing beside him._

_"What? We can't let them take her!" Huskie said._

_"I appreciate your cooperation, Commander." The leader said. His team finally returned their firearms to the holsters, and stepped out. "This way please." The leader showed his hand to the exit._

_"Mustang! Dr. Knox! We can't give up just like that!" Huskie said._

_"What are you going to do? In case you've forgotten, you haven't passed your probation. She's his wife, let him worry about her," Knox told Huskie, while holding onto the bed sheet._

_Huskie blinked. His mentor was right. He still had a few months before his probation ends. Unless he wanted to go back to be behind bars, he could only stick to his duty as a physician. Besides, he owed it to Mustang and Hawkeye for their effort in appealing to the High Court for him._

_"If you care that much, why don't you give me a hand? These black scouts look like they are going to drop her!" Knox grunted. "And, someone get the slide board!" He yelled._

_Falman lowered his pistol, watching both Mustang and Hawkeye leaving his sight, but could do nothing to help them._

"Lieutenant..." a voice called. "Lieutenant!"

Falman shuddered. "Sorry, Commander. Did you call me?" He asked.

Mustang scowled at his adjutant, saying, "Yes, do you have an update from the South? I need it for the meeting with the President in the afternoon."

"Right." Falman then handed a stack of documents to the Commander. "Half of the refugees will be sent to Aerugo, starting tomorrow, thanks to the treaty signed by the President and Prince Claudio."

"Make sure the assigned peacekeepers are experienced enough to handle the transfer. I do not want the rebels nor the Aerugans to find any excuses they could use to start a war," said Mustang while turning the pages.

"Understood. Those involved are aware of the do's and don'ts. A mandatory training session was given to them as well, just to be safe."

Mustang stacked the documents, and looked up. "Great work! Continue the follow-up with Lieutenant Spencer from time to time." Mustang found the adjutant before him looked different. "What's with that face?"

"You notice?" Falman smiled. "The thought of Brigadier General Hawkeye's return somehow has a calming effect on me. Do you not feel the same, sir?"

Mustang looked at his adjutant with his brows raised. "Stop talking nonsense," said Mustang. "Getting excited over such trivial matter... you should keep your emotions in check. Besides, the brigadier had resumed her work since a month ago. It is hardly news," Mustang said nonchalantly.

"It's different, sir. Her reinstatement was not confirmed until yesterday. Speaking of which..." said Falman. "Since the human trafficking case is solved, it is just a matter of time before the brigadier's task force is dissolved. Have you decided which division she will attach to?"

Air entered Mustang's nostril, before expelled from his mouth. "After much attention, it is wise to lay low."

"It may not be my concern, but why did you insist to reinstate her?" Falman asked.

_"Commander, as the CIC, you have violated the law, which you have vowed to defend, by transferring the Eye to a civilian, your wife, without consulting the Council." The chair, sitting at the panel, said. "By doing so, you've betrayed our trust."_

_"Yes, Your Excellency." Mustang answered, remained absolutely firm before the Council, even he was standing in the middle of the court, alone. "I do not deny that I was being selfish. But as you know, Riza Hawkeye is not just my wife, she had served her country for many years, and in faith. It was only due to her connection with Grumman that she was unlawfully discharged from the military."_

_"Pushing the blame on us would not change the fact that she almost destroyed a city."_

_"A remote city, to be exact," Mustang said curtly. "It was a calculated risk."_

_"A risk is still a risk," said the chair. "Can you be certain that it will not involve any casualty next time when the Eye is activated?"_

_"No, but I can help control it. Although we are moving forward, stepping closer to end all wars, I foresee circumstances where the utilization of the Eye may be of necessities."_

_"We are in agreement in that matter, which is why Riza Hawkeye has to be in captivity_ — _before the very eyes of the Council."_

_"Hmph," Mustang snorted. "That would be improvident, and an utter waste."_

_The statement brought all eyes to the Commander. "What did you say?"_

_"Instead of shelving your best weapon, why don't you put her to the field?" Mustang asked, the corner of his mouth raised._

_"You can quit your mind game, Commander. The Council will not grant your wish."_

_"Oh?" Mustang raised his eyebrow. "Am I that obvious?"_

_"North, Lieutenant General Olivier Mira Armstrong: ultimate defense against Drachma. East, your niece, Lieutenant Colonel Rachael Mustang, mediator of the Eastern tribes. Now, Riza Hawkeye, savior of the South. Two queens in hand, one in the making. Only a fool will think that their king is checked."_

_"In the end, the State reaps the harvest. I don't see any harm done."_

_"Your ambition is dangerous. The Council has to stop any attempt that will give rise to a new King Bradley, by any means."_

_Mustang sighed, "King Bradley, huh?" He then lowered his head, smiling bitterly. "So, this is what I am_ — _power-obsessed tyrant." Mustang's shoulders shuddered as he slowly broke out a laugh, a sinister one._

_"What's so funny, Commander?" The chair asked._

_"Nothing, I was laughing at the tyrant." Mustang looked up, his expression turned flat. "How pathetic he is, setting up a council just to submit to its authority."_

_"What?"_

_"Letting his family under constant surveillance simply because he had married a terrorist's granddaughter. Even when his wife was dying, he was not allowed to save her_ — _"_

_"Commander Mustang!" The chair stood up._

_Mustang's eyes became fiery. "Why?” he clenched his fists. “Why must he bear the curse so that others could be saved?"_

_"That is enough!" The chair said._

_"You are right, Your Excellency!" His anger suddenly vanished. "Nothing can quench my thirst for power, and I will not stop until you reinstate Riza Hawkeye. Any terms, any conditions, be it unfair, I will accept all." Similar to his words, his eyes were sharp, as if to pierce the Council._

_The Members of the Council proceed to talk to each other, but their voices were kept at minimal so that their conversation was unheard by the Commander. They did not take long to resume their former positions. "Commander Mustang..."_

"Since Article Twenty-five prohibits married couples serve in the same command, you will never be her immediate superior," said Falman.

Mustang looked at Falman. "Do you know why Major Breda was in the West Command and Lieutenant Fuery at the Nineteenth Regiment?"

The lieutenant blinked. "You need eyes and ears?"

"True, but more than that. There is one thing you have to get it clear, Lieutenant," Mustang said, his eyes narrowed on him. "The State's Military is not mine. Being loyal to me means nothing unless they are soldiers who obeyed the creeds they sworn."

"That is to defend the State and protect the innocence," Falman said, seemingly in awe.

"The Insurgence happened a few years ago had taken many lives. While the number has been replenished, most of them are green. Cretans and Aerugans are not that ignorant to see it."

Falman brooded over the Commander's statement. Breda was the Commander of the field artillery battalion. Fuery was part of the signal corp, occupied in improving the Enigma machine. Except Havoc and himself, Mustang had sent away his greatest assets, not to build his power, but to better the State's defense against her enemies.

The lieutenant shuddered at that thought. No doubt Mustang's decisiveness had earned respects, but his rather mechanical altruism was ruthless to those close to him, especially his family.

_"Psych evaluation?"_

_"The objective is to determine where her loyalty lies... so they said," Mustang said._

_"And if she fails?" Falman asked._

_"Life sentence, and I need to consider an early retirement."_

_"You can't agree to that!" Havoc said, sprang up from the couch._

_The hissing from the radio called everyone's attention. "Recent earthquake in South Border that left hundreds of people homeless, has claimed its first casualty. Roy Mustang, the State's Commander-in-Chief, or better known as the Ishval War Hero, was killed in the line of duty when..."_

_"By the way," said Mustang, "I'm officially dead." His voice was especially frivolous, leaving the rest gaped at him._

_"Commander!"_

_Everyone called Mustang simultaneously._

_"Now is not the right time to joke, sir!" said Falman._

_"I was wondering why we are in this safehouse," said Havoc._

_Mustang, on the other hand, was oblivious to disgruntled faces. Leaning against the back-rest, he said, "It is a shame that it didn't go as planned, but at least Hawkeye is reinstated." The Commander crossed his arms. "Think about what I'm going to do with a month of free time! Disappearing from this world doesn't sound as bad as I thought."_

_"I'll gladly make your disappearance permanent—with my saber."_

_Mustang and everyone else turned their heads, and saw a woman clad in blue uniform entered the common room._

_"Lieutenant General Armstrong!" Havoc and Falman stood up to salute to the general._

_Armstrong nodded her head, prompting the soldiers to be at ease. She then stood next to Mustang, glaring him down. "What's with you Central worms? Do you not have anything better to do than to direct an act?"_

_"General, pleasure to have you on board.” Mustang grinned._

_"You're having it wrong, Mustang." Armstrong relaxed her eyelids. "I'm here to make sure Hawkeye will not pass the test. Then, the four-stars will be officially mine." Her eyes sent the men, except Mustang, the chill from Briggs._

_"When you have decided that you are bored with Briggs, we'll talk again," said Mustang._

_Armstrong returned with a snort. "I doubt that conversation will ever happen."_

_Mustang received a letter from Armstrong's hand, reading it, "Operation Hellfire?" Mustang sensed the mockery. It fitted perfectly to what Hawkeye was about to experience._

_"I can assure you that the test is going to be just like the name spelled. Your security detail will take you to a safehouse in the East."_

_"No," said Mustang. "I'm staying." There was not the slightest hesitation in him._

_"Suit yourself," she said, then leering._ _"For curiosity sake... does Hawkeye have as much faith as you do?" Armstrong's voice sounded amused._

_Mustang looked at Armstrong, noticing that the commandant of Briggs was sniffing for fear. "What’s the rush?" Mustang asked. "You'll find out soon enough."_

_Hawkeye was his queen and he trusted her to have equal faith as he did, if not more. Else, her king would be checkmated._

_Learning that Mustang's shield was impenetrable, Armstrong lost interest. "The task force is heading to your residence as we speak. You'll get the best seat for the show."_

The timing could not be better. Falman was holding a personnel profile and a request letter in his hands. Putting his guilt aside, he mustered his courage and said, "The Third Division has been requesting for a Commander to its Second BCT since a year ago."

Mustang turned his seat to face the window. "Brigade combat team... It couldn't be more fitting," Mustang said. "Why Quarters have not found anyone to fill it?" Mustang asked.

'Quarters' was a nickname given to the State's Military Human Resources Command. No one knew the origin of the name. Some speculated that it was due to the command's efficiency in relocating and accommodating military personnel across the country.

"As a matter of fact, they had," Falman replied. "A colonel, then a major general—both from elite special force, both resigned within a month."

The telltale turned Mustang's head to his adjutant, looking at the latter in askance. "Spill it!" He said, arms crossed.

_A man, with a headphone worn, was listening attentively to the sound he had been receiving. According to the medical evaluation, it should be any time._

_"Anything?" Armstrong asked, approaching the man._

_"She's awake," the man told Armstrong, then turned the dial on the radio clockwise._

_"Thaw?" A female voice was heard from the speaker. "Where am I?"_

_"You're back to your residence in Central. How do you feel?" They heard another man's voice said._

_Mustang, on the other hand, was sitting still, left hand grabbing his right fist, regretted to sit in with the evaluation panel._

_They were at the basement of Mustang's residence. Other than Armstrong and a few communication officers, a psychiatrist was with them. It seemed like the shrink would be the one who had the final say._

_"Are you all right?" Mustang heard Thaw voice from the speaker. "The doctor said that they are healing well, though the injury on your right knee was more severe than the left."_

_Mustang closed his eyes, only to enhance his focus on the conversation even more, which was tormenting. He began to question himself if he really had no other choice._

_"It will be much easier to give up now," said Armstrong. "There is nothing wrong."_

_Mustang gritted his teeth. Armstrong's tone was especially kind as she was talking to him. It was all too tempting._

_"The Commander, where is he?" The speaker hissed._

_Mustang opened his eyes. He decided that he had had enough._

_The others watched Mustang hurried himself up the stairs without saying anything._

_Watching Mustang's abrupt exit, Armstrong grinned. "Looks like Mr. Nice Guy couldn't bear to see his wife suffer," she jeered, somewhat disappointed. She always deemed Mustang to be much tougher than her younger brother._

_"Shall we end the test?" One of the members of the panel said._

_It was the psychiatrist who replied, "We'll give him some time. As long as he does not reveal himself to our subject, the test shall proceed."_

_Mustang walked as fast as he could, climbing the stairs at the grand entrance to reach the second floor. His eyes locked straight. He wanted to be there as soon as possible, even if it was just a second early._

_He stopped in front of the door, a hand was hovering over the knob. His mind was picturing the scene where he had to see her behind bars. He cursed inwardly. It was always at moments such as this that second thought came to him, impeding him to take further action._

_A foreign hand held his as he was about to touch the knob, triggering him to turn his head to see who it was._

_Ring... Ring..._

Mustang picked up the phone.

_"Commander? I found him."_

"Where?" Mustang asked, keeping his face calm.

_"I lured him out, Central Railway. You are right the whole time. First Lieutenant Falman has been contacting him for quite a while."_

Mustang unwittingly turned his eyes to Falman. "Bring him in, quietly." Mustang said, emphasizing the last word. He rested the receiver on its hanger.

The Commander took his time to withdraw his hand from the phone. Intertwining his fingers and resting them on his abdomen, he lied against the backrest, curving the corner of his mouth slightly up. "It seemed like you have been busy doing things behind my back, Lieutenant Falman," Mustang said, a malicious grin escaped his face.

_"I am very sorry, sir," Thaw said, lowering his head. "I just couldn't bear to lie to her."_

_Mustang laid a hand on top of his head, ruffling his hair in frustration. "Well, I'm not doing any better than you are."_ “

_"Had Mrs. Hughes not arrived in time..."_

_A sudden wail froze them both. It was coming from the room not far away from them._

_Thaw had his face turned away, as if doing so could dampen the cry that reached his ears. His heart wrenched in responding to the devastation that the cry sent. His concern for Mustang brought bodyguard's eyes back._

_Instead of looking for a way out, Mustang stood still, eyes staring at the door that separated him from his wife. "I have lost track..." he murmured._

_Thaw stared at the Commander, wondering what the latter meant._

_"...how many times I had hurt her," the Commander continued._

_It finally dawned on Thaw that the Commander had taken it the hardest. "My father was a sergeant, stationed at the East," Thaw said. "He rarely came home. When he did, it was either he was injured or sick. My mother cried a lot because of him. On the day she received the flag from the military, I finally asked her if she had hated him for hurting her so many times. Do you know what she said?"_

_Mustang remained mum, staring at the bodyguard._

_"'Yes, a lot. But, I loved him. Even though it hurts, I still love him.'"_

_Mustang barely smiled. "Your mother is an amazing woman," he said._

_"Yes, she is. So is your wife," Thaw said. "She will forgive you when this is over."_

_Mustang unclenched his fists. "But I can never forgive myself." There was nothing he could do to reverse the damage he had caused, as his selfishness had decided her fate. The only hope he had was that she could pull through, or their suffering would be in vain._


	7. The Winter Cherry Blossom

_A few hours later, Gracia finally came out from the room, paused when she noticed a black-haired man sitting at the lower end of the staircase. Her footsteps brought the man to stand on his feet. His distraught face was telling her to give her assurance, but she chose to keep him waited until she was close enough to talk to him quietly._

_"She's asleep," Gracia said, watching Mustang relaxed his shoulders. "I heard she was abducted by the rebels. Was that how she received those injuries on her legs?" Gracia frowned. "They looked awful."_

_"They used her to get to me, probably shot her in the knees to prevent her from escaping," Mustang said, as if it did not affect him._

_The smile on Mustang's face grieved Gracia. How she wished that she could take away his mask and restore his torn soul. "I've watched you gone through worse, so don't let this crush you."_

_"Thank you, Gracia," said Mustang._

_"You should thank Lieutenant Falman. He thought that it would be more convincing if the news came from me." Gracia said._

_Mustang widened his eyes, impressed by his adjutant's acumen. Hughes' widow had the perfect cover. Not only she was very close to Mustang and Hawkeye, her innocuous disposition would never raise any suspicion. "The lieutenant is indeed a dependable subordinate," said Mustang._

_"And Riza too!" said Gracia. "She is stronger than you think. She’s shaken and all, but it will sink in, eventually."_

_"You are quite right. There's no point to have fought so hard just to give up now," Mustang said._

_"The real test has just begun," Armstrong said, as she approached the two. "The panel and the task force will continue to monitor her for the rest of the day, and thanks to the stunt you pulled before, they have decided to move her to an apartment in downtown Central," she said, looking at Mustang squarely._

_"General..." Gracia trailed off._

_Armstrong turned to Gracia, extended her hand. "Olivier Mira Armstrong. It is an honor to have finally meeting you, Mrs. Hughes."_

_Gracia took her hand and offered a gentle squeeze before letting it go. "If you don't mind... may I know why you are taking her away from her home?"_

_It was Mustang who answered her question. "To fend off unexpected guests like us, am I right?" Mustang asked, sounded conceited._

_"You alchemists should know more than anyone else. If we want unbiased data, we'll need a controlled environment," Armstrong said, coldly._

_"Please, general," said Mustang. His face was solemn. "I know that I had caused you and the panel trouble. But, could you let me stay as an observer?" Mustang asked._

_Armstrong looked at Mustang. She enjoyed watching the aloft Mustang bowed to her, like the old days when he was stationed at the North._

_As the Ice Queen of Briggs, she held on to the principle, where the fittest survives. The fire that glowed in his eyes, albeit weak, stirred her belief by a whisker. Love? She almost laughed at that thought. There was no way one's will be perpetuated by fairy tales._

_Perhaps, she could bring him some mercy by denying his request. On the other hand, she was curious—exactly how long Mustang could hold on to his unrealistic ideal while he was bound to Hawkeye. "If you make another mistake..."_

_"I won't."_

_Armstrong turned away from Mustang. "You should move out. We can't risk anyone else seeing you living and kicking."_

_Mustang breathed out a relief. "Thank you."_

_"It's not for free though," Armstrong said, leaving. "You're paying it... with your office, starting tomorrow."_

_Her threat landed soft on Mustang. No matter what she said, he knew she had no real interest on the Commander's office. Even if she had, he was ready for a fierce match._

_"General Armstrong, she has a kind heart." Gracia said, as both Mustang and she watched the door where the general had closed._

_In fact, Mustang thought that he owed her too much._

Breda hung up the phone, and exited the booth. Pulling the cap as low as possible to cover his eyes, he walked to a long bench, making a beeline through the human swarm across the platform.

"You are late." Breda heard as he took a seat.

Next to Breda was a man with a newspaper opened in full, blocking his front view as he flipped a page.

"Nice to meet you, General Curtiss..." Breda said. The sound of paper crumbling was muffled by the steam engine. Breda looked at the dreaded face and said, "Be natural, general. You don't want to attract anymore attention."

Curtiss raised the newspaper up again. His hands shuddered. "Who are you? What have you done to Lieutenant Falman?" He asked.

"It is suffice to say that Lieutenant Falman and I are serving the same master.” Breda showed his best smile. “Speaking of which… Would you come with me? My master has longed to meet you."

_It was a bad idea, Mustang thought. From the start, he never wanted to involve her. Had the shrink not requested for a 'catalyst' and Armstrong not casually recommended one, the situation would not have happened._

_Mustang felt a bead of cold sweat hanging on his temple. He excelled as a strategist in war and politics, but when facing his family, he always ran out of good cards. How to defuse a bomb, again?_

_"Are you not going to say anything?" Rachael asked, showing her fangs. "I'm not waiting forever."_

_She seemed like offering him a fallback, but Mustang knew best. No matter what reason he had, she would definitely use it against him. It was time for him to teach her of her position. That was it! He had to stop treating her like a child._

_"About what?" He asked, his brows pressed together. "You had your order from the Council. Even if you have any objection, you should not use that tone when you are talking to the State's CIC."_

_"Don't give me that crap," Rachael said._

_Mustang maintained his position, trying not to show his defeat. Sometimes, Mustang found his niece an exact resemblance of the teen alchemy prodigy who had once under his command._

_"How could you make me say those awful things to Riza? Is she not your wife?"_

_"I'll say it again, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang," Mustang said, staring Rachael down. "If you raise your voice again, you'll be court-martialed for insubordination," he said curtly._

_Rachael gritted her teeth. Several ways of retaliation were brewing in her mind. She would make him regret for what he had said. But for the time being..._

_"Understood, sir!" She shouted, her heels snapped together. "Since my mission is complete, may I return to Eastern Command, sir?"_

_"Granted, you may dismiss, lieutenant colonel," Mustang said, without slightest hesitation._

_With that being said, Rachael stormed out of the room. After she stepped out, she had not forgotten to return her glare before slamming the door behind her._

_Mustang slouched his back and breathed out a sigh. Once the test was over, he foresaw a series of 'onslaught' coming from the East. He shook his head. It was not the time to worry about her._

_He turned his head to his left, where the clock was hung. They were late, he thought. His head then turned sharply to the door as he heard someone knocking on it._

_One of his details approached the door and looked through the peephole. The detail then opened the door to reveal two familiar faces._

_"Sorry to have you waiting, Commander. We brought you dinner," said the tall blond as he laid a bag on the dining table._

_"I saw the lieutenant colonel on our way here. She looked pissed!" Havoc said, taking food out of the bag. "Did you do anything to her?"_

_The question made Mustang's hair stood. "Why does everyone always think that I have done her wrong?" He snapped._

_"I don't know. Maybe because she only gets angry when she is with you?" Havoc made it sound natural._

_"What?" Mustang shouted._

_"I've noticed that too, major," Falman said._

_"Can you not simply agree to him?" Mustang groaned. The myth about insubordination being pandemic was confirmed._

_"Almost forgot," Havoc said, stopping whatever that he was doing. "We have news for you, both good and bad."_

_Mustang's anger dissipated at once. "Fine!" Mustang looked tiredly at the major._

_"That’s right!" Havoc said. "Hawkeye is doing fine," he sounded confident._

_"Fine? You call that fine?" Falman asked in disbelief. "She is broken, major."_

_"Lieutenant Falman, did you know that you almost blew it when you refused to leave?" Havoc scolded. "Good thing that I dragged you out before she suspected anything."_

_"Is it true, Lieutenant?" Mustang asked, looking at his adjutant._

_Falman lowered his head, averting Mustang's eyes. "I'm sorry, Commander. I know how important the test is, but to leave her in that state... it isn't right."_

_"You have overthought it," said Havoc. "As far as I'm concerned, she is eating, feeding her dog, and taking care of herself without any help. Well... mostly. Sure, she is mourning, but I consider that she is doing a lot better than we had anticipated," Havoc said. "Even the shrink... what is his name?" He asked, looking at Falman._

_"Dr. Friedrich."_

_"Right, he is impressed too!"_

_"How could you trust him?" Falman asked. "He has just decided to skip the rest of the test and starts Phase Two, tomorrow!"_

_"Wait a minute," Mustang interrupted. "What is Phase Two? Armstrong never told me about Phase Two!"_

_Falman and Havoc exchanged glances, then rested their eyes on Mustang. "Which is why that is bad news..." Havoc simpered._

"I did nothing wrong, sir," Falman said. "As your adjutant, I am responsible for your best interest."

"You should at least inform me that you are seeking Curtiss' counsel. I could have arranged him to be my advisor," Mustang said.

"True, but sir, you forgot one thing—you were being watched."

Mustang blinked, unable to retort his aide.

"It started out with a few visitations after his retirement," Falman continued, his head lowered. "At first, I wanted to know more about his unfinished work. But once talked to him, I've found General Curtiss a man with great wisdom. He taught me a lot, showed me how to apply my knowledge to solve my daily challenge. Thanks to him, I am finally useful to you, not just a walking encyclopedia, but to assist you as General Hawkeye did when she was your aide."

"Are you an idiot?" Mustang said curtly.

Falman raised his head, astonished.

"I would not have recruited you to my team if you are not useful at all. You are meticulous, which is perfect as my aide. If I had wanted a double of the brigadier, there were plenty beautiful female officers to choose from. Why would I want a man at my back?"

Falman never knew. He never knew Mustang had such regard of him. He thought he was only chosen out of convenience.

Falman smiled. "She will be mad..."

Mustang arched his brows at the lieutenant's comment.

"General Hawkeye... if she finds out you were thinking about other women—"

Mustang slammed his palms on the secretary. "Listen!" He stood up, his brow twitching. "She must not find out about our conversation. It is top secret, got it?!"

_Mustang would never use to it, sitting and waiting. It seemed like Armstrong was the same as she had been pacing back and forth since she came._

_Unlike them, the panel was content in the seats around the table._

_Mustang could never understand what the panel was thinking._

_The test subject had reacted in accord to calculation, to the panel's boredom. They blamed the lack of 'stimulant', and figured that it was time for them to introduce a new variant, that is, free will. Perhaps by stop forcing conditions on the test subject, her suppressed emotional state would be released._

_That was exactly what worried Mustang._

_Good soldiers like them tend to react mechanically in adversity. The panel might perceive it as outstanding performance, but it was merely the result of reflex from a seasoned veteran. Once disarmed from 'combat mode', surviving might not be relevant anymore._

_Mustang warned the Council that the next phase of the test was moving too soon. While he was confident that Hawkeye would stand on her feet again, literally and figuratively, it would not happen in a few days._

_But no one listened._

_The panel argued that her recent two years was adequate to assimilate her to normal life._

_So it backfired..._

_It was true that Hawkeye had been discharged from the military. Nonetheless, she was still married to a soldier, and her husband was the head of the military. Every decision she made, she did it for her husband. To put it in a simple way, she never had a chance to get out of the military._

_The Council suddenly offered her a way out, and she took it._

_"Should we call it?" A member of the panel asked. "There is nothing else we can do, since she has decided her fate."_

_Armstrong slapped her hand on the table, making the panel to straighten their backs. "You pushed her to a cliff. And now you are washing your hands?"_

_"We have nothing to do with it, general. She had no will to be in the military to begin with. Her decision also proves her loyalty... to Commander Mustang," said Friedrich. He then found Mustang gaze. "Any comments, Commander?" He asked._

_"I am just an observer, Dr. Friedrich," said Mustang._

_"If you say so... we shall submit our findings to the Council."_

_The panel rose to their feet, and cleared the table._

_Armstrong stared at Mustang. His unusually calm feature annoyed her, telling her that it was not over yet. Still, with Hawkeye already accepted her sentence, the panel could do nothing to change it. If the Council found out that Mustang was influencing the panel, it would only make his position as the CIC even more precarious. Mustang was smart. That was why he had refrained himself from communicating with the panel._

_The Ice Queen let him be. She knew Mustang would not sit still and handed in his fate. She knew he was very resourceful. What she did not know was that this time there was no trick._

_She really could not believe her eyes when she found him bending his back to a ninety-degree bow apologizing for being contemptuous to the authority. In his statement, he went into great detail as in what he had done wrong and was willing to accept any penalty as decreed by the Council._

_Perhaps Mustang did have a fluke. Three weeks of suspension was all he got—barely a slap on the wrist._

_Strangely, the Council said nothing about Hawkeye, not even disclosing the panel's finding. When Armstrong thought about it, the Council never told her why they wanted a special evaluation to be performed on Hawkeye. The way the panel conducted the test was rather unconventional if it was just to gauge Hawkeye's mental state and competency. Frankly speaking, it was an experiment on human's mind._

_Armstrong did not like it. There was too many secrets._

_As the court dismissed, Mustang was called to the Council's office._

_"Commander," the Chair said. "We are sorry that we have put you in this tough situation. It was never our intention to stand against you if there were other choices."_

_"I don't understand," said Mustang._

_"It was regarding the South rebels whom you have defeated." The chair pushed a file on his table forward, cueing for Mustang to pick it up. "It seemed like they are just the puppets. Their master could be among us."_

_"Why am I not surprised?" Mustang asked rhetorically._

_"The task force that investigated the case discovered the link between missing weapons in the armory with human trafficking from the South. Central might be compromised as well. These traitors are elusive and have never been identified."_

_"So you thought that I was behind it?"_

_"It's always good to start from the top. We are just glad that the military had not been that corrupted."_

_"What rules me out?"_

_"Ask the panel. Dr. Friedrich have had you evaluated simultaneously. According to his profile, these traitors will never be willing to submit themselves to authority."_

_"To be honest, the test was inhumane."_

_"The test was specifically designed. We had instructed Dr. Friedrich to abort the test had things gone wrong."_

_"Fair enough. So what do you need from me?"_

_"We want you to stay 'dead'."_

_"I didn't realize that I annoyed you that much," Mustang jested._

_"We mean it, Commander. Your death could lower their guard."_

_"Even if I oblige, how are you going to lure them out?"_

_"That is where Phase Three comes into play."_

_Mustang widened his eyes. Phase Three... that means..._

_"That is right, Commander. Your wife, Riza Hawkeye, will be the bait." The chair said._

_"These traitors hated the military," a member of the council seated next to the chair, said. "Since her psych evaluation says she is only loyal to you, then with your 'death'—"_

_"The Master may approach her," Mustang completed the sentence. "But she would be no use if she stays in prison."_

_"Which is why we need another favor from you."_

_"But why cherry blossom?" Falman asked, peering through his binoculars. "I really had hard time looking for it in the winter." He had his vision locked to the woman who was at the opposite building._

_"What does it matter? it served the purpose," said Mustang._

_"Come on, Commander!" Havoc cried out, rested the back of his head against his palms. "Even if it is adult-rated, you've got to give us a clue. Right, lieutenant?" Havoc leaned his back against the chair hard, letting it swayed back and forth on its two hind legs._

_At that, Falman lowered the binoculars. His face was flushing red. "If that is the case..." he gulped. "I think we should respect the Commander's privacy, Major Havoc."_

_"Wha-at!" Havoc exclaimed. The chair's front legs hit the floor with a loud thud._

_"Stop it, you two!" Mustang ordered. "Lieutenant Falman, keep your eyes on her!"_

_"Yes, sir!" Falman snapped to his duty, and picked up his binoculars._

_"Relax! The Master and his underlings are caught. No one is going to harm her," said Havoc. He always found Mustang's inconsistency to be quite amusing, even though the latter only acted that way when it involved with Hawkeye. At one moment, the Commander could turn a blind eye, as if she was a stranger to him. At the other extreme, he could be overprotective as he was._

_Havoc did notice some improvement in the Commander after the marriage. Maybe, the Commander's conscience had spoken to him._

_"She looks a bit down though." Falman frowned._

_"What do you expect? She's just met her wicked grandfather!" Havoc shouted._

_"We could have taken over the interview," Falman said._

_"It's been done! No point crying over spilled milk," Mustang said. "We'll keep doing what we do until the Council notifies us that the threat is clear."_

_"That's the thing!" Havoc said. "The Council keeps leading you around by the nose. For crying out loud, you are the CIC!"_

_Mustang sighed, turned to his right, and took a step forward. "I'll say it again—No one is above the law. The Council is there to make sure of that." Even though Mustang was a man of integrity, no one could guarantee his successor would be the same. The establishment of the Council was to balance out the power of highly-ranked military officers. Without absolute power, there would be no tyrant._

_"You are no fun, Commander." Havoc rolled his eyes._

_"Accept it, Havoc. I'm the boss," Mustang smirked._

_"At least tell us a bit why you gave her a box of cherry blossom. I'm starting to have lots of wild guesses here." Havoc's cunning smile made Mustang frowned. He just had to return to that topic._

_"You just can't let it go, can you?" Mustang asked, annoyed._

_"We've been stuck here for a month now. Can you blame me?" Havoc teeth shone as sunlight met them._

_"I'm stuck in here," Mustang emphasized, then pointed his finger at Havoc. "You get to go home and be with your wife and kid."_

_"Well, I'm not the CIC." Havoc leaned backward. "Stop beating around the bush and indulge us already."_

_Insubordination is a disease that spreads, especially when you are suspended. Mustang figured that if he refused to oblige, Havoc would fill in the story. The damage that came from it would be beyond repairable._

_"Our first meet was in the winter..." Mustang recalled._

_Falman perked his ears. He stole a glance to his right and noticed the major had formed an 'O' with his mouth._

_"Her father died, and I helped buried him." Mustang said, obliterating Havoc's muse. "At the funeral, I recall that I wanted to protect the people with my own strength." Mustang cast his eyes down to his palm as he clenched it into a fist._

_His subordinates had tuned their ears to him, "Then, we saw the last flower on a cherry blossom tree."_

_"Was that why your front yard is filled with those trees?" Havoc asked._

_Mustang widened his eyes, then relaxed. "They were supposed to be our child's birthday present. Had it been carried to full term, it would have been born end of spring," he smiled bitterly._

_"When the flowers in full bloom..." Falman’s eyes widened. "Sir!" Falman called. "You have to look at this!"_

_Mustang hurried to Falman, and grabbed a binoculars off his adjutant's hand._

_As the Commander looked out the window through his scopes, Falman asked, "Is she..."_

_"Get the response team in there, now!" Mustang shouted._

_Falman scrambled to the radio, picked up a mouthpiece, and shot orders at it._

_"What the hell?" Havoc took the binoculars that was hung around Falman's neck, and peered his eyes through it. "Oh no!" He gasped as soon as he found a jagged object was hovering on a wrist. "She won't do it," his voice was jittery._

_Immediately after Havoc said that. The sharp ceramic had moved up to the neck. "She will!" Havoc blurted._

_"Falman!" Mustang cried out._

_"On the way!" Falman replied._

_"Wait," Havoc said. "She's hesitating."_

_Still looking through the scopes, Mustang muttered, "Drop it, Hawkeye. You're better than that."_

_Nonetheless, the sharp ceramic had not budged a bit._

_"Response team in position. Ready to breach, sir!" Falman said._

_"Breach!" Mustang turned to Falman and shouted._

_"Delta team, proceed," said Falman._

_"Hold it!" Havoc cried out. "Pull them out now!"_

_"Major?" Mustang turned to the major. It really was not the time to handle a mutiny._

_"Do it, Falman!" Havoc shouted. His face told Falman that the major was not joking._

_"Abort, Delta team! I repeat, abort and standby," Falman called out._

_"Are you crazy?" Mustang asked._

_Havoc grinned. "She's fine!" He shoved the binoculars into Mustang's hands._

_The Commander was bewildered, yet complied to the major's cue. As he zoomed his view, he breathed out in relief. There was Hawkeye, sitting by the table and cuddling with a black dog._

_"Looks like loyal canine saves the day," Havoc pointed out._

_It seemed so. Mustang had never been so thankful to the dog. "That's why he's a major," Mustang said._

_"You promote a dog to my rank?" Havoc sprang up from his chair, gritting his teeth._

_"Black Hayate outranks me..." Tears streamed from Falman's eyes._

_Mustang chuckled at his subordinates' reaction. "As a dog, he is quite reliable, don't you agree?" Mustang asked, putting the binoculars next to the radio._

_"Where are you going?" Falman asked, watching Mustang took a coat off the hanger._

_"Council's Office," Mustang said, slipping both his arms through the sleeves. "You better make sure she's fine when I return." Mustang glared at his subordinates. "Else, I'll turn you into dog food."_

_"Yes sir!" Falman and Havoc snapped their heels and saluted._

Hawkeye had not felt so helpless before.

Early in the morning, Valerie attended to all her needs, from going to the bathroom to getting dressed. Even in those days, when she was confined to a wheelchair, Hawkeye was free to go anywhere. Yes, she was not as mobile as she was before she injured her knees. At least, she was not immobilized.

Hawkeye heaved a sigh. She glanced at the clock, then cast her eyes down to her straightened legs on the bed. She was ready, but could not move without help. At this rate, she was going to be late.

Black Hayate noticed some movement. He stood up and went to his owner, wondering what she was doing.

At that point, Hawkeye had landed her left foot on the floor.

"I'm all right, boy." Hawkeye said. Nonetheless, the dog still had his focus on her, wagging his tail nonstop.

With both hands wrapped about her right knee, she pulled it to join her left leg.

_Knock, knock..._

"Come in!" Hawkeye said. She then found a tall blonde emerged behind the door with a broad grin and a pair of crutches in his hands. "Great!" She said, her face lit up. "Those are just what I need."

Havoc walked in and handed her the crutches. "The Commander apologizes for leaving early in the morning," he said, as Hawkeye rose to her feet.

"Right..." Hawkeye adjusted her crutches so she could face the major. "Can we go?" Her icy stare gave Havoc a chill.

"I'm telling you, sir," said Havoc, holding the receiver closely. "You really need to watch your six."

"Sorry, what is this about again?" Mustang asked, his head tilted to his right. The receiver was squeezed between his right ear and shoulder.

"Sir, this is serious!" Havoc raised his voice, regretted when he noticed the nurses were glaring at him.

"Right, you've said that..." Mustang trailed off, his left hand took the receiver and put it to his left ear. His right hand was busy scribbling on a stack of papers.

"Focus sir! If you ask me, I think she is mad at you."

"Who?" Mustang raised his eyebrow. "The lieutenant colonel? She did that all the time."

"No! i’m not talking about your niece! Are you even listening?" Havoc was pulling his hair. "I'm talking about the brigadier."

"Oh, did you get her to the hospital?" Mustang asked. "How is she doing?"

"According to her therapist, she's making good progress. The atrophy in her right leg may take some time, but both legs will have no problem regaining full functions."

"That's great news," Mustang smiled. "I was worried if I have to delay her transfer."

Havoc slapped his palm on his forehead. "That is the least of what you should be worried. If you don't make it up to her, you'll be in trouble."

"What did I do?" Mustang sounded surprised.

"You really didn't pay attention to any of what I've said earlier." Havoc pinched the bridge of his nose. "You lied to her being dead and you left her in the morning without telling her."

"That? We've settled it."

"Then why does she have that 'I'm-pissed-and-you-better-figure-out-why' look on her face?"

Havoc immediately felt stupid as he heard the Commander laughing his heart out.

"Hawkeye? That's not possible."

Havoc gave up. "I've warned you, sir."

Mustang pulled the receiver away from his ear and frowned on it. "Did he just hang up on me?" Mustang murmured. One of these days, Mustang figured, he was going to rein his subordinates in.

"See if I care!" Havoc shouted at the telephone.

"Major Havoc..."

As if being electrocuted, Havoc's hair stood when he heard someone calling him. He turned his head over his shoulder.

"Who are you talking to?" Hawkeye asked. Her face was expressionless, as before.

"No one," Havoc simpered, turning on his heels to face Hawkeye. "I was talking to myself, haha!"

Hawkeye remained unfazed by the major's antic, prompting Havoc to stifle his laugh.

"You are done?" Havoc asked.

"Yes," Hawkeye said. "And I need your help."

It was starting to feel more like winter.

For a dog with thick fur, the temperature did not bother him at all. But once in a while, Black Hayate would sprawl out near the fireplace, and took a nap there. The warmth came from the kindled fire was really soothing, especially when his owner was around.

This time was slightly different though.

Black Hayate was conserving his energy, for someone else.

His drooped ears perked up, turning, and honed in the sound of a gushing wind and some firm footsteps.

Black Hayate instantly stood on his four paws, trotted away from the lounge, and tackled the intruder who appeared to be talking to his owner's caregiver.

His attack was not successful, however, as his front paws were caught.

"Got you this time," the man grinned in victory.

Black Hayate licked the man's face. The dog had skills.

"All right, all right."

The man took something out under his trench coat.

Dog biscuits!

"Just one though."

Black Hayate bit on the biscuit and took off. He could always get another one later.

Mustang then turned to Valerie, after noticing the lounge was gleaming. "She's in there?" He asked.

"Yes, she seems tired," Valerie said, as she glanced to the lounge.

Mustang slid the coat off his shoulders and handed it to Valerie. He then went into the lounge, disregarded of the two guards standing by the door. As he went around the couch nearest to the fireplace, he found Hawkeye sitting there. Her legs were covered with a fleece as the bottom edge drooped on the carpet.

She had her eyes shut, but opened them as soon as she noticed someone else's presence. "Welcome home," she smiled.

Mustang then sat beside her and put his arm across her shoulders, allowing Hawkeye to rest her head on his chest.

"Long day?" She murmured.

"As usual," Mustang breathed out. "And it's going to get worse."

"Damage control?"

"Yeah, and that. The Parliament just could not stop calling me names when I stepped into that hall."

"I guess they were disappointed to see you still alive."

"Like I care. They even proposed to put me up to trial for abusing power."

"Sounds fun..."

Her statement raised Mustang's brow. She seemed to be enjoying herself over his misery.

"I heard you had all the fun." Mustang pointed out.

Hawkeye kept quiet, as if she did not hear him.

"So, what did you do to Havoc?" Mustang asked. "He kept saying that you were upset and it was my fault."

"You know him," Hawkeye said lazily. "He can be paranoid at times."

"Then, what's with the 'I'm-pissed-and-you-better-figure-out-why' face?"

Hawkeye pulled away from Mustang and stared at him in the eyes. "I did not make that face," she protested. "It's my day off and I had to go for a therapy—I'm tired!"

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger." Mustang threw his right hand up. "You sure you don't have an old grudge against me?"

"Commander!"

"All right, just asking," Mustang smirked, but solemness took over. "Why would a supportive wife like you resent her husband?" He caressed her cheek. "I'll explain to Havoc tomorrow."

Hawkeye took the hand on her cheek and laid it down. "That isn’t necessary. I don't care what others think."

"He also told me that you have requested a referral letter from your doctor." Mustang said, as he gave her a letter. "I guess you know that you'll be transferred."

"Article Twenty-five..." Hawkeye said. "Also, I figure you didn't feign your death just to get another secretary."

Mustang huffed out. "You know me too well," he said.

"But why a BCT?" Hawkeye asked.

"While State Alchemists could neutralize most threats, they are lack of support in the field. Plus, skilled alchemists are hard to come by these days. We need a new elite tactical force. Support and protect alchemists in the field, easy to deploy, and capable of combat in all environment. Easier said than done, but—"

"If it works, we'll stop border wars, once and for all," Hawkeye said.

"You are the only one who believes in my dream."

"I guess we are both as naive as we first met, believing in the cherry blossom that survived the winter." Hawkeye gazed at Mustang's eyes. "I'm going to bring a few officers with me."

"Take Breda and Havoc," Mustang said.

Hawkeye shook her head. "You need them. Besides, I don't want them spying on me like Winry did," Hawkeye said, the corner of her mouth curved up.

Mustang froze. Havoc was right about her.

"Not defending yourself?" Hawkeye asked.

Mustang knew it was a challenge that he should not accept. "Petition for pardon, my Queen," Mustang said.

Hawkeye then whispered to his ear, "Am I to hold a grudge against my king?"

Their gazes met. The flickering flame was obscured by the touching lips of a man and a woman. He covered the back of her head and pressed it against himself. She had his back locked in her arms. Eight months they had been separated from each other. Their desires were put off for too long, and it began to burn.

Mustang traced his right hand to the fleece, pulled it down, and fiddled with the zip of his wife's pants.

Suddenly, it came to a stand still, as she was holding his hand.

Mustang blinked his eyes as she pulled away. "Not these days," she said, her eyes filled with guilt.

"Oh," Mustang felt like an idiot, and the atmosphere was getting awkward. "I get it," he simpered. "Menstrual, right?"

Hawkeye shook her head again, then cast her eyes down. "I'm ovulating."

Mustang widened his eyes, and wore an evil grin. "No wonder you look smoking hot these days," He said.

The pause between them broke as they chuckled in unison.

"Are you sure it isn't the dim light that causes the illusion?" Hawkeye asked.

"Nah..." Mustang pulled her to himself. "I know my wife," he said.

A pair of wistful eyes looked at Mustang. "Perhaps—"

"No," Mustang said curtly.

"You haven't heard me yet."

"I know what you're thinking," Mustang said. He could see it from her eyes.

"The Eye had kept you alive, but there is still too much we do not know." Mustang said. "From what I've heard, an infant is linked to the Gate. If you become pregnant, there is a huge risk that the fetus may destabilize the Eye."

And the consequences might be greater than what happened in the South.

Mustang wrapped his arms around her. "We could adopt a child if you want to."

"And leave him or her in this mansion while both of us always not around?" Hawkeye asked.

"Well, there is no difference in having our own child."

"True..." Hawkeye murmured. "If we are going to do this, then we need some planning. At least, not until I have a brigade trained."

"And I'll wait, as long as you need." Mustang then pulled out two rectangular pieces of fabric out of his pockets. "Careful with the West, Brigadier General. It is full of snakes and bandits. Legend has it that no one lasted more than a month."

Hawkeye took them and found a broad lighter color stripe on top of the darker color.

"I know you would go to hell for me, but don't overexert yourself," Mustang said. "This is an impossible mission to begin with. You can always come home if it doesn't work."

Hawkeye kissed him on the lips. Mustang had many ideas to help build the country, but his position somehow restricted him from doing as he wished. He had eyes and ears all over the country, but he needed most was a pair of good hands that will execute his will and clear his path.

"Just give me three months," said Hawkeye. "I'll have the brigade ready."


	8. Against Thunderstorm

The steam engine whistled under the bare hot sun. A gush of air dispersed silicate off the ground and onto the pedestrians. A young man in blue stepped out of the station along with the crowd, hand pulling the strap that strung around his shoulder that began to ache by the heavy load from the brown cylindrical bag.

He glanced at his surroundings that was packed with stores and merchandise. Signboards, big and small, of the famous canyon were lining up along the streets. Despite the dry and hot climate, the town was very lively.

The young man walked down the stairs, and met with a horse carriage that had just skidded to a stop.

"Need a ride, Soldier Boy?" The coachman, at about fifty of age, asked.

The young man looked at the shady wooden cart drawn behind the horse. "No thanks. I'll wait for a cab."

"Hah!" The coachman exclaimed. "You must be one of those Central snobs. This is the cab, Lad!" The coachman said. "And it is environment friendly. This engine will not give those black soot that you would get from those noisy scrap metals." He said, patting gently on the horseback. "My service is top-rated in this town, including Fort Wellesley. Ask anyone here if you don't believe me." Proud painted on the coachman's face.

The young man looked left and right. There was nothing that looked like wheels nearby. “All right..." He said.

"Can you be slower?" The young man shouted.

"What did you say?" The coachman roared.

"I said slower!" The young man held the side cap on his head. It was hard to talk in strong wind came along the sandy road.

"Have you seen thunderbolt being slow?" The coachman kept his voice bright.

"No."

"Meet my partner, Thunderbolt!" The coachman laughed, and whipped the rein in his hands.

And, it was the most excruciating journey of the young man's life.

After an hour of torture, the young man became brittle to the core of his bones. Nonetheless, he found himself at the destination.

He paid the coachman and dragged himself into the front gate. He saw a company running in neat file, shouting and singing cadences at high decibels.

Showed his identification to the guards, the young man walked past the security and entered a broad bitumen paved road, where trucks and humvees passed by. Each side of the road was flanked by borderless training grounds. He was not surprised by the sheer space in the fort as it was basically built on top of a sandfield.

The young man droned on, until he reached a main building. He was then directed to a barrack, where a ball almost hit his face.

"Sorry..." A man in crew-cut ran to him. He immediately saluted when he recognized the three stars on the young man's shoulder. "Sergeant Major, sir!"

"At ease," the young man said lethargically. "Do you know where the first platoon's barrack is?"

"I'm from the first platoon, sir!"

"Your name?"

"Bailey Scott, private."

"Denny Brosh, Central Intelligence."

Brosh guessed that it was a good thing after all. Before he arrived, he was worried about his young siblings that he left behind and that he could not cope with the intense training for serving in the frontline.

After he introduced himself, he was literally a hero. He was proud of himself, thanks to the recent human trafficking case.

There was still a question though. Why was he transferred?

His peers began to put on a detective hat. While most of the guesses were nonsense, Brosh did think that he might have offended his former commanding officer.

The mess hall was a great place if you want to flaunt. His presence alone had already brought a platoon of worshipers. Many asked him if he knew the new commandant, who was also transferred from Central Intelligence.

As an enlisted, Brosh did not know much, but he suspected that it might be his former superior, who seemed to be arriving in a few days.

It soon became a heated discussion. There were many versions of the new commandant's background. Some claimed it was an old general. Other rumored that it was a lady. Some heard that the commandant was crippled in war. There was even a version where the commandant had superpower.

Brosh could care less. Before the discussion turned into a quarrel, he had sneaked out and stayed away from trouble, just in time before the XO came in and ordered a ten-laps punishment.

Ah! Those hotheads really did not understand. To survive in the military, a soldier must not depend only on will and strength, but also brain. And, if you are not the smartest, at least be the fastest to smell trouble before it even started.

Watching the fully equipped battalion running under the bright hot sun, the colonel stood aloof in his office at the third level. "It seems like we have invited the CIC's attention," he said.

The major behind him had a glare on the glasses that obscured his eyes. "As expected." The major pushed his glasses up with a hand. "However, this time will be more cumbersome." He took a step and opened the file on the desk. "He sent his wife."

"The result will be the same. Men or women, connected or not."

"Colonel, I suggest that you treat her seriously. She was known for subduing those under her."

"Iron Lady, huh?" The colonel snorted. "Even if the Ice Queen lands here, I'll drive her up North."

The major sighed, "Please refrain yourself from making that joke, Colonel. Her fort has enough ammunition to level the State."

"Which reminds me that we don't have enough time," The colonel said. "I'm tired of being bossed around by those Central bureaucrats." The colonel turned around. "They know nothing about the West."

"So, plan as usual?" The major asked.

"No, I think it is time for something new." The colonel grinned. "Let's show our guests the West's hospitality, starting from the sergeant major who came from Central Intelligence."

Life was good. Other than the dusty climate, Fort Wellesley was like a second home to Brosh. Even the XO invited him to the former's quarter for an orientation dinner.

Brosh had never been flattered and praised so much in his life. With the complement of fine red wine, he was instantly in cloud nine.

"So, Sergeant Major Brosh," the colonel wiped his hands with a napkin. "What can you tell us about Brigadier General Riza Hawkeye?"

"Strange..." Ross said, watching the empty street. There was not even a ghost. "They should be expecting us."

Standing beside the captain was the brigadier. Having supported herself with a pair of crutches, she said, "Call them.”

"Yes, General." Ross then went to a nearby phone booth while Hawkeye rested on a long bench.

The captain returned after a few minutes. Her face had displayed her frustration. "The dial tone was in Code One."

Hawkeye widened her eyes. She began to wonder if Fort Wellesley had been in distress.

"Ma'am!" A man with a hat called them from afar. He was leading a small herd of horses. "You have to head for shelter! There is a tornado warning!" He cried out.

"General?" Ross looked at Hawkeye, prompting for a decision.

Hawkeye breathed out. For safety sake, she ought to take her subordinate and seek for shelter. But, her instinct told her that she had to get to her brigade immediately. She could smell that it was brewing something ammoniacal.

Black Hayate nudged Hawkeye. His snout pried her hand off her lap, and rested his chin. Letting out a soft whimper, the dog dropped his ears and closed his eyes, enjoying the caressing brush from his owner's hand.

Hawkeye softened her complexion, said, "We must get to the fort."

Ross found the given direction was rather risky, but she kept that thought to herself. "Can we borrow your horses?" She cried out to the horseman.

"My horses? But they have no saddle!"

That would not work either.

When the captain was cornered by the lack of option, a low drumming was heard, and a carriage loomed in from the dust.

"That old man is as crazy as ever," the horseman said, holding onto his hat.

The coachman pulled in his rein to make an abrupt stop, right before it hit the curb. "I see you sweet ladies need a ride to the fort," the coachman flashed his teeth.

"Old Man Joe!" The horseman shouted. "You are going to kill someone one of these days!"

"Shut up!" The coachman turned his head and retorted out loud. He then stood up on the driver's seat. "There ain't no tornado since ages ago! Even if there is, my Thunderbolt will bring us through it!"

"Sorry, ma'ams!" The horseman lifted up his hat and put it back on. "I have to move to the shelter! Be careful with that crazy old man!" The horseman then brought his herd and moved eastward.

The coachman twisted his left heel and turned around to face Ross and Hawkeye. "You look like you are brave enough to come with me." His fists pressed at each side of his hip.

Ross simpered, thinking twice about the offer.

"It will be rude to reject a gentleman's chivalry, sir..." Hawkeye noted, slipping her arms into the crutches.

"General?" Ross sounded uneasy.

"Please, call me Joe," the coachman said, removing the hat off his head to cover his chest. "At your service, my Fair Lady." He bowed.

"Listen up," a sergeant called out. Pacing back and forth in front of the gateposts. "Let no flies in or out of the fort. If you fail to defend the gate, I'll write you a recommendation to Briggs. Is that clear?"

The sergeant perceived the odd silence and looked up to his troops.

"Sir?" One of the guards pointed his finger.

His men were staring blankly to something behind the sergeant, and he heard the sound of a galloping horse.

"Old man Joe..." Someone said. "It's Old Man Joe!" They shouted. Their face went pale.

"I really think we are close enough," Ross warned, both hands held tightly on the wooden rail that was fixed to the side of the carriage.

The coachman saw the guards split into two lines. Those at the front knelt on one knee, the back still standing. "They don't seem to welcome us," the coachman said.

Hawkeye noticed what he meant. The guards had had their rifles up, and aimed at the carriage.

"Want me to slow down?" The coachman asked.

"No," Hawkeye sounded firm. Black Hayate resonated with a bark.

Ross' face turned pale. It seemed like her CO had been in a mood of killing herself.

The coachman whipped with the rein in his hands, and the carriage gained speed, forcing the neat line to scatter away, just in time before the raging horse stomped its feet on the guards.

The sergeant lay prone on the ground, quickly returned to his stand when the gallops passed him. "Sound the alarm!" He shouted.

The siren went off. All military personnel at scene rushed out of the barracks.

It did not take long before the carriage arrived at the main building, where a welcome party was assembled.

Black Hayate jumped off the carriage and sat down like a statue, overseeing the line before him. Despite of his height, he was undeterred by the giant human walls.

"Welcome to Fort Wellesley, General. Sorry for not being able to receive you." The XO said. His lips curved. "The fort is currently in Code One due to tornado warning." His eyes laid on the canine.

Black Hayate returned the stare. It took just a bark to bring all staff to be fully tensed.

"Leave the explanation for later," Hawkeye said while the coachman leaped off and pulled down the side door on the carriage.

Ross too, jumped off the carriage. A fleeting wobble almost tipped her over, but she quickly regained her balance, concealing the tingling from her waist and down to her feet.

"Captain Maria Ross, reporting to duty, sir!" Ross saluted.

The XO returned the etiquette, and extended his hand. "Welcome, Captain!" They shook hands.

A pair of crutches protruded by her side, prompted Ross to take them in her hands.

Soon, those metal sticks grabbed the headquarters staff's focus.

Hawkeye slowly moved her right leg and let it dangle the side of the carriage while her left leg joined in. "Colonel Leo Dunley..." Hawkeye murmured. Her expression remained blank.

"Yes, ma'am!" The XO saluted. He widened his eyes when Hawkeye raised her right arm towards him, with the palm facing down and drooping.

The general said nothing. Her eyes only stared at the XO.

On cue, the XO strode forward and held her by the hand which then immediately retracted, bewildering the XO.

"Closer..." She said.

The XO gulped and took another step forward. He was standing right before her knees.

"Now, step to your left," she ordered.

The XO obeyed, but had no idea what the general wanted. The onlookers too were curious of what would happen next.

"Stand still," she said, her voice lurked with warning.

The XO pressed his lips together, bracing himself. A surge of pressure weighed on the XO's right shoulder while Hawkeye threw herself out and landed on the hard sand road.

Ross immediately helped Hawkeye slipped the arms into the crutches, as the latter took her hand off the XO's shoulder.

"Thank you, Colonel," Hawkeye said dryly, seemingly oblivious to the indignant officer, who had his fists balled tightly.

"I guess my service ends here," Old Man Joe said. He locked the door and jumped back to the driver's seat. "Let me know when you need another ride."

"How much do I owe you?" Hawkeye asked.

"Leave it." Old Man Joe took the rein in his hands. "I don't charge emergency." And, the carriage took off. As he left the fort behind him, he murmured, "The fort is getting more interesting, Thunderbolt."

"Look, a dog!"

A soldier knelt down and watched the resting dog raised his head.

"Hello," The soldier said, patting the dog on the head.

"Why is there a dog in the fort?" The brown-haired soldier said, looking up at the entrance of the main building.

"It has a collar," the former said, pointing on the blue collar around the black dog's neck. "Its owner may be working in this building. What's your name, doggy?"

"You should leave it, in case the majors and the XO see us."

"Look at the star between these yellow stripes. They looked like a major's insignia. I'll call you Major, then!"

The brown-haired soldier stooped to look closely. "Oh yeah, it says... stay away from it!"

"I think it's a boy." The soldier who knelt before the dog said, ignoring his brother-in-arms. "Good boy, Major!" He beamed.

At the Commander's office, Dunley introduced the headquarters' staff, one by one, then entered into the brigade's routine.

"Colonel..." Hawkeye raised her hand. "I think that is enough," she said, her eyes closed. Putting down her hand on the secretary, she said, "You are the XO and I trust your leadership in maintaining its daily function. You don't have to report to me every single detail unless I have specifically requested or that matter requires my attention."

"I see," Dunley said. "As you wish, ma'am."

"The rest of you can dismiss," Hawkeye said, then turned to Ross, who was standing next to her. "You too, Captain."

Ross saluted, and followed the staff out.

Hawkeye waited for the door to close, and said, "Colonel Dunley, take a seat."

Dunley pulled the chair out and sat opposite to Hawkeye. "Do you know why Central sent me?"

"The brigade needs a commander, ma'am?"

A soft laugh was snorted out. "I'm not asking for the obvious, Colonel." Hawkeye's face remained neutral.

"Ma’am, I—"

"Never mind. I'll start first," Hawkeye said. "You have great talent, Colonel. Top of the class, promoted to the rank of colonel from second lieutenant within five years... And you are only in mid-twenties. Even the CIC himself commended you for surpassing him."

"Thank you, General." Dunley sounded uneasy. He looked at Hawkeye.

Her face was like a shield—impeccable in covering her thought. Not just that. Her amber eyes were the sword she wielded. By just a look to her eyes, a person could easily fall victim, surrendering all information that she needed.

Dunley suddenly realized he had met a master of disguise, and he was losing a battle before he even started it. However, he was not going to give in, not yet.

"Colonel?"

Dunley snapped his thought back, finding himself staring at his superior. It was bad. He could not move at all.

To his relief, the general looked away first. She said, "I don't care what happened to my predecessors. Power-struggle is not something I'm interested in."

 _Is she trying to tell me to get out of her way?_ Dunley thought. "Ma’am, I don't understand why we are having this conversation. You are the brigade Commander. As your XO, I will obey you, no matter what your wish is," Dunley said. sounded sincere.

"Then we are on the same page," Hawkeye said, leaning back.

 _Now, do I have to lick your face?_ Dunley thought.

"Let's get straight to business," Hawkeye said. "There will be a regional military exercise..."

"Our brigade has been selected for the first time," Dunley said. He was prepared for it, the moment his brigade make their debut in the field. He was done being called the chickling.

"I want our brigade to withdraw."

Dunley stared at her with his wide black eyes. "May I know why, ma'am?"

Hawkeye leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. "I am not questioning your ability. I'm asking you to trust me, as your superior. The time is not right."

Dunley tightened his jaws. "Understood, ma'am.”

"Thank you, Colonel. That is all I need from you."

The colonel stood up, saluted, and exited the office. Ross, noticed the nudge of the door, turned around and saluted the colonel, who clumped out. The captain then knocked the door.

"Come in!"

The captain entered the office. "Is he going to submit a withdrawal?" She asked.

Hawkeye turned her chair, watching the sunset. "No," she said. "But, I hope he would, for his sake."

_You may think that you should treat everyone as you normally would but in the military, there are only superiors and subordinates. Act professionally. Tell them what you want and make them deliver it to you. They are not your friends, but comrades who will assist you whenever you need._

"Let's call it a day, Captain." Hawkeye picked up the crutches. "I heard snakes and bandits prowled at night. Don't want to stumble upon them."

Ross looked at Hawkeye. "Should I call Old Man Joe?"

Hawkeye only blinked at her.

"Just joking, ma'am." Ross smiled.

By not returning the courtesy, Hawkeye coerced the atmosphere to ice cold. Instead, she said, "It is not a bad idea at all." Hawkeye laid it flat. She then headed to the door, paused and turned around when she realized her right hand had remained still. "I was joking," she beamed.

"General..." Ross heaved out a relief. "My hip still hurts." She slouched her back as she walked to the door.

"Me too." Hawkeye seconded.

Intense training after the hangover did not bode well. It was not until the break in the evening that Brosh could pay a visit to the infirmary. As he came out and passed the main building, he saw a group of enlisted had gathered at the entrance. At a distance, he heard they were babbling about a certain major.

"What is going on?"

The enlisted were jolted and snapped into salute. "Sergeant Major!"

Brosh then noticed the black dog. "Black Hayate?" He called, surprised.

Black Hayate barked happily at him.

"You know this dog, sir?"

Brosh frowned at the abundance of food and treat around the dog. "Oh no!" He cried out, kneeling down to pick up all the food. "She will be very angry if you eat all of these," Brosh said.

As the sergeant major occupied, those surrounded him fell back.

"Is there a problem?"

Frowning, Brosh continued to clean the doorstep, only turned around when he heard Black Hayate barked. "General Hawkeye! Captain Ross!" Brosh jumped, everything in his hands dropped and scattered on the ground.

"What are you doing?" Ross hissed.

"I can explain!" Brosh cried out. "It was them!" When he turned around, no one else was around. Right, he forgot to sniff for trouble.

Hawkeye seemed to be unimpressed. She looked at Brosh for a few seconds, then said, "Let's go, Hayate!" She left, and Black Hayate was at her heels.

"You are incorrigible, Sergeant Major!" Ross exclaimed. She too stormed away.

For some reason, Brosh always got caught in such situation. However, most of the time, it was not his fault.

"Who does she think she is?" Colonel Dunley slammed his palms flat on the desk.

"She is much more straight forward than I thought!" The major said. "Not even bother to embellish her message."

"Used me to be her stepstone, then deprive me of my chance... She is much worse than those two egotists before her."

"The committees are asking for confirmation. Should we decline?"

"No way!"

"You are not thinking about doing this behind her back, are you?"

"I need surveillance."

"You are not serious, Colonel!"

"Just do as I've said. I need to know what game she is playing. We'll retaliate when necessary."

Sheska had lost count how many times she had climbed those stairs that day. With a load of files and papers in her arms, she trudged her way to the CIC's office. Those would be the last stack.

"Thank you, Sergeant." Mustang smiled. "You've been of great help."

He was literally sitting behind a mountain. Not just the secretary, the tea table, the floor... There was almost not an inch of the floor not covered by papers.

Sheska unloaded the burden in her arms by stacking it on top of a random heap. Slouching her back, she asked, "Are you sure you don't need me to help process them?"

"We appreciate your help," Falman said. "But our discussion will involve confidential information. Only the CIC's staff are allowed in this room."

"All right, my job is done. Do let me know if you need anything from me," Sheska said, exited the office.

"It was amazing how the sergeant could quickly pull out these much documents," Curtiss said. His business suit stood out from the white stacks.

"Let's get to business, shall we?" Mustang formed an arch on the desk with his forearms. "From now on, no one is leaving this room," Mustang said.

"I see that you have not submitted the withdrawal." Hawkeye stated. "How long do you plan to put that off, Colonel?"

Nagging again, as if she was his mother. Dunley seemed to be able to delay it again, but he knew it would not be long.

Luck was on his side. As soon as he came out of the devil's office—yes, she was a devil—the colonel went to consult his think tank.

"What do you mean there is nothing much?" The colonel cried out.

"She works, she goes back to her housing, she sleeps, she eats. Ah! Aside spending time with her dog, she is having a checkup and a few physical therapy sessions at the veteran's hospital," an intelligence officer said.

"I'm not talking about those! I need evidence of foul play, dirty secrets, and any of that sort." The XO's blood boiled.

"These were her old records."

The colonel opened it and flipped through the pages. The documents are very, very thick, but there was nothing much to read since mostly were blackout. "Can you give me something declassified?" The colonel slapped his hand on the papers.

The officer only simpered. "You know we are out of that level..."

By 'level', he meant clearance.

The colonel slapped his palm on his face. No wonder the brigade was called the chickling. "Forget about it. I'll pull my own string. Anything else?"

"Aside visiting a cadet at the West Academy today, there is nothing out of the ordinary."

"A cadet?" The colonel turned.

"Yes, Andrew Ferring, eighteen, parents unknown, most likely an orphan."

The officers gather before the file. The major picked up the photo. "He is very much resembling the CIC. Eyes were more like the general's though."

"You're not saying she's been having a child that old, are you? She is barely in her thirties." The colonel said.

"Still... that is the only thing we have."

"Damn it! Go! Get everything you have about that boy!" The XO grunted. If he wanted to win the war, he needed to be all out.

"You've come to see me!" A boy, ran to Hawkeye. He was smart in his blue uniform. Along with the peaked cap on his head, he was a fine young man.

"Sorry for taking so long," Hawkeye said, wearing a warm smile across her face. "How are you doing?" She asked, as she brushed the lint off the cadet's chest.

"I'm fine, graduating this spring, and this is my present for you and Uncle Roy!" The cadet grinned proudly, his hands extended out straight, revealing a transcript.

Watching the boy with a tilted head and raised brow, Hawkeye took the transcript and skimmed through it until a phrase caught her eyes. "Summa cum laude?" She asked.

"I'll be the top of my class."

Hawkeye brought the boy into her embrace. "I'm so proud of you," she murmured. "Uncle Roy will be thrilled too."

"You should come to my commencement, with Uncle Roy!"

Hawkeye let the boy go. "We'll try. Your Uncle Roy is kind of tied up these past few months." Sitting on the bench and meeting the gentle breeze was quite relaxing.

"I heard you have just been transferred to Wellesley. Are you a commander now?"

"Yes, Second Brigade Combat Team."

"That must be cool! Most of my classmates aimed to join the BCT too! Can I be in your brigade?"

Hawkeye chuckled. "Now, let's not think too far ahead. You still have a practical obligation to fulfill after you graduate."

The boy slouched, his eyes cast on the grass field.

"What's wrong?"

"I wish my parents are here."

Hawkeye blinked. "I'm sorry," she smiled bitterly. "But you must not tell a soul."

"I know," the boy huffed. "For my sake... But how long?"

"Uncle Roy and I are working on it." Hawkeye touched the boy's cheek, noticing how time had turned the boy into a grown gentleman. "Thank you for being patient with us... Selim."

Later in the afternoon, the boy bidded Hawkeye goodbye. When the boy was no longer be seen, Ross appeared with a pair of crutches in her hands. "He sure grew up fine," Ross said, giving the crutches to Hawkeye. "To those who don't know, they might be thinking he is the CIC's son."

Hawkeye propped herself up and shifted her weight onto the crutches. "The CIC has no such blessing." She then walked with the captain.

Ross sensed that she had touched a sensitive topic. "Sorry, General. I didn't mean to—"

"Ross, I'm fine. The Commander and I... We have accepted it," Hawkeye told. "Sorry to have troubled you with these," she said, holding a crutch up and laid it down. "I couldn't let him see me in this state. He's had enough on his plate already."

Ross understood that Hawkeye was referring to the boy. "I'm your adjutant, General. That's what I do."

Hawkeye could not focus at all since that day. She had walked herself through various options, but none seemed to be viable. There had been so much going on after Bradley's death, that Mustang and she had to put that matter off. Losing his parents was bad enough, but to have his identity being erased?

"General?" Ross called, as she noted Hawkeye was rubbing her temples.

"How's our XO?" Hawkeye asked tiredly.

"Same routine."

"Give him the list!" Hawkeye raised her voice, in grimace.

"General, please don't push yourself," Ross said, moving herself to Hawkeye's side. "Many soldiers have fallen ill under the extreme heat. You should be careful."

Hawkeye leaned her head back. "Is it serious? Why didn't the XO report it?" Hawkeye asked.

"You told him to report to you only when it is necessary," Ross said.

"I did say that, didn't I?" Hawkeye closed her eyes, slowly breathing in and out. For almost a month she had tried the loose leash. It was time to rein it in. "Captain Ross..."

On the bulletin board was a pinned notice. The dragon on green at the top middle.

"Due to extreme heat, outdoor activities are prohibited from ten a.m. to three p.m., except when Code Zero is declared. All military personnel are advised to stay hydrated, report to respective commanding officer in case of suspecting heat injury and seek medical attention immediately. Platoon leaders are required to attend seminar on heat injury preventive measures and guide their platoons with this information. Anyone who fails to execute this order will be subject to court-martial. 2nd BCT Commander—Brigadier General Riza Hawkeye." Brosh read out loud.

The sergeant major grinned. The queen had finally made her move.

"Just when the date is near..." The XO grunted. "We are not school children. That order will only be in the way of our training."

"Even so, we will still prevail in the exercise. Look at this list!" The major showed a piece of paper.

"Eastern command sends... a company? Fort Briggs... none?"

"The North initially signed up a squad, but the committees rejected their application because the smallest unit to join the exercise should be a company."

The XO growled, "How demeaning!" He then balled the paper and flung it into the trash can.

"Colonel, the brigadier may be on our side. We should take her advice."

"Tomahawk..." The XO called. "Remember our goal?"

The major pushed the bridge of his glasses up. "Of course. To prove that we are not just some blue bloods."

"The chance is here, and I am not giving up. Neither the heat nor that devil can stop me."

Mustang stretched his arms and back. The folded sleeves of his white shirt slipped down to his upper arms. For days he was stuck in the office. He really could use a shower. "So, it is done?" He asked.

"Just need some editing. So, yeah!" Falman said, shuffling the documents in his hands.

"This time, I'll pull Norsk's teeth out with bare hand." Standing up with both fists on his waist, Mustang guffawed.

"Willis Corporation has certain influence in this bill," Curtiss said. "While we may not gain full support from the Assembly, this plan will at least give us some bargaining chip."

"In other word, money talks," Mustang said.

"It's all about business, Commander." Curtiss said. "This is what we need to counter Norsk's offer. It also serves as a buffer in case he and his cohort decide to cut us loose."

"Still, it is genius!" Falman's eyes sparked. "Turning military technology into commercial products will help us tackle budget cut."

"Obsolete technology, Lieutenant," Curtiss said. "They are useless in modern war, but definitely beneficial to agriculture and construction. If we can get the military contractors on our side, commercializing them will not be an issue."

"Commander, you have declined the invitation to the military convention. We'll never be able to get their support," Falman said.

"The Commander did the right thing. We cannot show ourselves as desperate," Curtiss said. "But, please consider sending a representative."

"No worry," Mustang smirked. "It is best handled by someone sweet."

Hawkeye crossed her arms and frowned, "A convention?" She asked.

"Yes, you have been invited as the guest speaker to their mini-symposium," Ross said. "Your achievement is brought to light at last."

"You are having it wrong, Ross," Hawkeye said. "After the CIC forced a slim expenditure, those military contractors are in tight spot. I bet that they have been looking for opportunity to approach him."

"Let me guess... You are standing right in the crossfire."

Hawkeye sighed. "Those businessmen are very persistent, especially when the new military budget will be announced in three months."

"Are you going to decline?"

"If I do, that will be an insult. The contractors have been very supportive to the military. No matter what, we'll have to maintain the good relationship," Hawkeye smiled faintly. "So when is it going to be?"

"A week from now."

That was bad. The military exercise was just around the corner. Hawkeye stared out through the window, onto the empty training ground. It had been quiet lately. Maybe, Dunley had come to his sense.

"You are still worried about the XO?"

Hawkeye kept her eyes on the field. After a short delay, she said, "I'll leave in two days." She averted Ross' question.

It would be somewhat early, but Hawkeye figured she could take the advantage to take care of some personal matters.

"Are you comfortable being alone?" Hawkeye asked, turned to face Ross.

"Just a bunch of chicklings, right?" Ross smiled.

It was his month, smooth sailing month. Mustang whistled his way along the hall. With hands locked behind his back, he had the confidence that the streak continued.

Mustang came to a stop. He found the door to his left was left ajar, showing darkness within. It was almost noon, the Council's Office should be working at this hour. Moreover, where was the guards? Figured that it was rather unusual, Mustang slipped the ignition gloves onto his hands, then slowly pushed the door. Mustang immediately brought a hand to cover his mouth.

Hospital... He hated it. Throughout his career, he had visited that place enough to know where each department is, including the wards and washrooms. Only one thing changed in the hospital, that was the nurses.

"So what do you say?" Mustang asked.

"Commander, I don't think I can make that decision," the nurse said.

"Why?" Mustang flashed his smile. "Didn't the doctor just clear me from infection?"

"We need to hold you here to observe for any secondary infection."

"Really?" Mustang continued to gaze at the nurses. "Or, is it you who won't let me go?"

"Enough, Commander!"

Mustang pricked his back up, while the nurse excused herself. As soon as he saw the tall blond, Mustang pouted. "What are you doing here, Havoc?"

"Can't you behave yourself when the brigadier is gone?"

"I've been held here for three days! And none of you came to see me!"

"Lame..." Havoc said, a brow raised. "Don't you know that we are busy with the case?"

"So..." Mustang lowered his voice. "Did you get anything?"

"The Council members died almost instantaneously. The experts suspect that it was a genetically modified strain of _Bacillus anthracis_."

"It is anthrax then."

"No, it kills too fast. You are lucky that the spores were rather short-lived. By the way, the guards who should have been on duty were tortured and killed in the maintenance room not far from the office."

"Insider's job again. I wonder what their motive was."

Someone barged in. "Sir, there has been an attack at the convention center!"

Mustang could no longer registered anything else. Pushed his subordinates aside, he sprang up and ran with all his might. It was going to be fine—he repeated that phrase in his mind.

He skipped through the stairs, descended from the fifth level to the first, almost stumbled on a few people on his way.

He had not stopped. He stepped recklessly into the busy street, where a car almost ran over him. Instead, it skid to a curb. Mustang ignored the driver who had got out of the car to yell at him, and drove away the car himself, leaving the angry driver behind.

He cut the line, overtook a few cars in a narrow escape, and even drove against the traffic. His mind was blank, and he could not think of anything.

As soon as he saw the crowd coming in opposite direction frightened and scared, he got out of the car, overwhelmed by the chaos around him.

People were pouring out from the main entrance. Screaming and crying rang in his ears.

"Hawkeye!" He shouted, ran here and there. "Hawkeye!"

There was no sign of her.

As he was about to enter the hall, he was pulled away by two men. Kicking and screaming, he watched the distance between him and the convention center grew.

It was only the agony on his cheek brought his attention back to Falman and Havoc, who were calling him.

"She is not in there, Commander!"

Mustang heard Falman said. What did he mean she was not in there?

"The military convention is tomorrow!"

"Oh..." It was an embarrassment. But, he accepted it.

"Seriously..." Havoc ruffled his blond hair. "You are going to drive us nuts these days!"

Listening to Havoc's rambling, Mustang reached to his cheek. "Did you just slap me?" He growled.

"What else could I have done? You weren't in your right mind!" Havoc retaliated.

"You are suspended! For assaulting your commanding officer!" Mustang snapped.

"What?" Havoc raised his voice. "Sure! So next time, I'll let you kill yourself!"

Falman watched his superiors at each other's throat. It was good that none of them died that day.

Mustang returned to his residence with defeated spirit. Waving Valerie off lethargically, he dragged himself up. As the adrenaline worn out, he began to notice the blisters under his feet. It also dawned on him how foolish he was back then. He walked slowly to the bedroom, feeling even more depressed when he thought about being alone again that night.

He heaved out a breath, turned the knob, stepped in, and allowed the door slowly snapped shut on its own. A short burst of white light lit up the room for split second.

He was not alone after all.

It was the familiar scent of shampoo and the warm humidity that brought his eyes to the bathroom.

A woman stepped out. Cladding in a bathrobe, a towel draped on her head, she gently rubbed the moisture off her blond hair. That was when she saw him. "Commander?" She looked surprised.

Her hand then found his cheek. Her touch somehow eased the pain. "What's wrong?"

His eyes were first to betray him. He did not care. Before her, he no longer had to hide his fear.

The wet towel dropped. He forced his mouth on hers, arms squeezed her body against himself so tight that he felt her heartbeat drumming against his chest. His growing strength prevented her doing anything else except to accept his crave until they could no longer breathe.

He detached his face from hers, adoring her submission through the glitters in her eyes. "You are not ovulating, are you?" His fingers traced along the soft flesh below her ear, then yanked away one side of the robe—fully exposed her shoulder and part of the burnt scars on her back.

It was clear enough. He was not asking for permission.

"I'm on the pill," she said, standing still as he stamped the impression of his lips along her collarbone.

"Good," he panted to her ear. "Because," he whispered. "I am not holding back."

It was the first thunderstorm after the winter, lashing and whipping thunders and lightning through the night.


	9. Nine Weeks

"I see." Her long blond hair spread over his chest as she marked his sternum with her lips. "Those may be two separate attacks." She pressed a palm against his chest to prop herself up. "We are not necessary in danger." Her eyes found him had his face turned away. Fear and anxiety were seen from the corner of his eye.

She had not seen the man she married so vulnerable.

Her left hand brushed away his bangs and brought him to face her. "Roy, I'm here." As if he was blind and could not find her.

The sunrise reflected the radiant on her face ever so vivid, and it petrified him. "I can't protect you!" He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. He did not want this to be just a dream, in which the next minute, she was gone.

"That makes two of us." Her eyes filled with guilt.

"Riza..." He did not mean to... He did not mean to bring her down with him.

"But I can protect myself." Her eyes showed no hesitation. "And you must do the same." She was begging him.

His fear dissipated. Narrowing his eyes on her, he asked, "Do you always talk with your eyes?"

Her eyes turned soft on him. "Only to the man who reads me."

He rolled them over, and pinned her wrists on the bed. "After this, you should go back to the West." He smiled. "You are a distraction to me." The hunger of his obsession was prevailing. He had to rein it in before it consumed him.

"Yes, My King.” 

"Constant fatigue, overloaded infantry, poor strategic planning... Together with an unexpected sandstorm, I am not surprised that the brigade was defeated in an ambush," Hawkeye said, eyes closed, holding a teacup in her hand.

Dunley lowered his head. His brows knitted, mind recalled the transmission of the chaotic shouting from his company leaders.

Hawkeye let the warm fluid entered her mouth. Opening her eyes, she said curtly, "You have underestimated your enemy, colonel."

The XO added no comment. He was accountable for the brigade's loss.

"I'll take over from now on," Hawkeye said. "You should have no objection, I assume."

"Yes, ma'am," Dunley muttered.

"I can't hear you."

"Ma’am, yes ma'am!" Dunley roared.

"Now get out of my office!" Hawkeye growled.

Dunley stood up and saluted before he stomped out.

"Captain.” Hawkeye laid the cup onto her desk.

"Ma’am!" Ross stood in attention.

"We don't have much time. I want it roll out by tomorrow." Hawkeye's tone stressed her point.

"Understood," Ross said, eyes looked squarely to the front before lowered to her superior. Her shadow towered the latter. "I heard about the attacks in Central..."

"The investigation is ongoing." Hawkeye noticed the concern on Ross' expression. "Don't worry, I wasn't the target." She smiled.

Her heart fluttered nonetheless. She did narrowly escaped death. If she was there a day earlier...

"If I were, I would have been dead," Hawkeye said.

"Please consider moving in to the Fort," Ross said. "I'll have the security increased, as a precaution."

Hawkeye parted her lips, and she recalled the promise she made to Mustang.  _ I can protect myself... _

"I'll leave it to you then. Do as you see fit," Hawkeye said.

"Yes, General." 

These few weeks had been hot! Way too hot!

Black Hayate stuck out his tongue as he trotted passed the barrack.

"Hello, Major!"

"Where are you going Major?"

"Hi Major!"

Black Hayate simply was not in the mood to entertain the humans around him. He was on a more important mission—to keep himself from dehydration and heatstroke.

His ears pricked forward, traced the low rumbling noise to its source and...

Jackpot!

The garage, where all the big tanks and loud machines were.

To his delight, the vehicles seemed to be moving away, leaving ample space and shade to fit at least a thousand of him.

"Why are you First Brigade here?" A man in a jumpsuit shouted. His hand was holding a wrench.

"Orders to take over, approved by your commander!" A lieutenant pressed a paper onto the former's chest. "From now on, the tanks and other heavy armored vehicles belong to us!" The lieutenant showed his thumbs, and clicked his tongue against his teeth.

"No way!" The man in a jumpsuit was bewildered. His eyes seemed like they were about to fall off the sockets. "What are we supposed to work on?" He and his crew then turned to the beeping sound, where a large trailer was reversing.

light shone from the cargo container. Their ears split by the deafening sound of a bursting engine. A motorcycle jumped out.

"These babies have just arrived. Please take good care of them!" The lieutenant grinned. "And also, the half-tracks, which your commander ordered, will arrive tomorrow. It's good to do business with you, Second Brigade!" The lieutenant then hopped onto one of the trucks.

While the convoy of heavy-duty trailers shipped away the armored tanks, the man in a jumpsuit ran after it, but later held back by his crew. "Wait! Come back!" He watched the distance between him and his lovers grew apart. Tears rolled in his eyes.

"No!" His voice echoed in the air.

Black Hayate yawned, then curled his body at a windy corner. Sometimes, human just liked to be overdramatic.

"Recon and light infantry's training is working well," Ross looked at the clipboard in her hand. Her eyes were drawn away when a stout man added a pair of weight plates to each side of the bar. With a brow arched, she continued, "They are now at Briggs for their last survival training."

Ross glanced at her superior again and her face twitched. 

Her superior, who was lying flat on the bench, adjusting her grips on the heavily loaded bar. "General!" She called out, split second after the weight was lifted up steadily.

"What?" Hawkeye stared at her adjutant with her blank face.

"Nothing..." Ross simpered, feeling awkward. " _That was over three hundred pounds in your hands._ "

The man stood behind the bench nodded his head. "You are doing great, General!" He watched her lifting and lowering the bar in her hands.

"Am I?" Hawkeye asked, her breathing synchronized with the movement of her arms. "Captain, three months are near."

"We are still on schedule," Ross answered.

The bar was then transferred to the man as he rested it on the holder.

Hawkeye sat up, picked up a towel, and wiped her forehead. "Central Command has called for an update. I'll leave on Thursday."

Which was two days later.

"I'll follow through the simulation with the State Alchemists," Ross said. "When you return, we'll be ready for a field exercise with the First Brigade."

The timeline might be tight, but the Second Brigade would be ready in three months, just as promised.

It was a close call. With minimum vote, Mustang's motion to commercialize obsolete military technology passed.

"You should see Norsk's face." Mustang grinned. "He was literally stomping his feet."

"It was a splendid debate, Commander." Curtiss walked with Mustang, keeping abreast. "He tried to turn the Assembly on you with the Council's assassination. Good thing that you had kept your cool and turned the tide against him."

"He always charges ahead, which makes him presumptuous and easy to read."

Mustang and Curtiss held their steps when they noticed a silent stare came not far from them. The blond man and his think tank seemingly engaged in a heated discussion.

"If I were young, I would have done a victory lap." Mustang crossed his arms.

"You don't say, even at my age..." Curtiss rubbed his grey beard.

Loud footsteps came to them from behind. Mustang and Curtiss turned to their back, found Falman sprinting towards them.

"Sir!" Falman saluted.

"What's the emergency?" Mustang narrowed his eyes on the lieutenant. "And remember to speak clearly this time," he ordered, recalled his last embarrassment.

Falman then leaned forward and whispered, "South Border has declared Code Zero."

Mustang could not believe that it was happening. He did see it coming, but never that soon.

Captain Ross was a faithful aide. Not only that she helped The Hawk's Eye in revolutionizing a special tactic force, she was also the general's personal assistant. Keeping record of her superior’s routine was just part of her regimen.

For instance, the physical training record. These few months, Ross found that Hawkeye was more than qualified to be a professional all-round athlete, including running, weight-lifting, and boxing. Shooting aside—since Hawkeye was a sniper—the rest of the activities that Hawkeye engaged often set all-time records.

Ross looked up to the general sitting opposite to her, watching the latter swallowing the fourth bowl of stew.

"Does something bother you, captain?"

Ross pricked her spine, being fully alert. "Nothing!" The captain waved her hands frantically. Hawkeye would definitely kill her if she asked.

However, it was also her job to look out for her commanding officer's health.

"All right." Hawkeye sighed, putting down her spoon. "I won't get angry. Just tell me." 

Ross looked at Hawkeye, like peering through the murky water for crocodiles. Being a gazelle, she just would not know until she dipped her head into the water.

And she did.

"Ma’am, when was the last time you had a full check-up?"

Just when you thought your enemy could become your friend...

Without warning, Aerugans had destroyed several transmission towers, making communications between the South and Central Command nearly impossible.

"Any chance of contact?" Mustang asked a communication officer.

"Negative."

"That is worrying," Falman said. "Without the towers, we have no way to support our troops in South."

"They seemed to have infiltrated into the South for a long time," Curtiss said, then poked his finger on a spot, where the railway network that connected Central and South was. "Else, they could not have destroyed the railroads."

Mustang analyzed the maps. Dameno and Fotcett caught his eyes.

She should not have listened.

It was important, in her opinion, for a leader to not just bark out orders, but also be an attentive listener.

What was better than to demonstrate it to her subordinate by setting an example herself?

It should be a quick visit to the clinic anyway, unless, of course, when she ended up stuck in there for hours.

She shot a silent glare—the one that Havoc sensed that day—not to her aide, but to the doctor sitting in front of her.

How often would one stumble upon surprises in just one day?

The doctor returned the glare with watchful eyes, as if he was a prey before a hungry tiger. He had a feeling. If he moved his eyes away from her, the lioness would instantly go for his throat.

And hence the staring contest.

He tried not to break a sweat as it was almost a hundred degrees outside. For crying out loud, he was wearing a lab coat over his blue uniform.

The doctor sighed. He was not supposed to meet her that way. All he wanted was to give his best friend a surprise. How did he know his first patient at the Fort would be her? By the way, why should he endure her rage?

He really had enough. "It is not my fault, you know." He threw it out at her. Show hand! Even though the cards were lousy.

The glaring sunlight seemed to have little effect on Hawkeye. It was a wonder how she kept her eyes on him without even blinking.

"You are responsible for this," Hawkeye said, as if he was her debtor.

"What!" The doctor heard his voice raised. He was indignant. "I'm not the one who knocked you up, all right?" He stopped abruptly, noticing Hawkeye’s eyes went to the test report on his desk.

The doctor put his hand on the report. "This is the third time you've taken the test." 

"Is it even possible? I've made sure to take the pills timely every day."

"You really should stop taking those," the doctor said, then looked at Hawkeye. "So? Should I congratulate you?" He smiled faintly. "You still seem unsure though."

Hawkeye huffed out a breath. "Of course I am! I don't even feel anything," she said tiredly.

"If you are talking about the symptoms, you should know every pregnancy is unique." The doctor said. "On a side note, your captain has a pair of keen eyes." He sounded impressed.

_ Yeah... perhaps too keen. _

"Hey!" The doctor said softly as he tried to align his eyes to hers. "Don't be so gloomy," he smiled. "You're a mother now!"

Right, a mother. The blood work and urine test confirmed it. But, why did the word sound so distant to her?

The doctor rubbed his palm on the back of his neck. Four miscarriages in her medical history. The mother was certainly a high-risk. However, there was nothing abnormal based on the test reports. What else could he do to assure the mother that the baby was there and doing well?

While the doctor scratched his head, his eyes caught a small speaker sitting by the examination table.

The doctor's eyes lit. That was a device he modified to examine the heart. Although it did not work out as he intended it to be, it was good that he was sentimental enough to bring it along to the Fort.

"Come." The doctor stood up and moved to the examination table. "Lie down for me." He held onto the curtain.

"Why?" Hawkeye asked.

"Just trust me okay?" The doctor seemed to be in high spirit.

Hawkeye, on the other hand, remained askance.

"It's not a prank," the doctor said, both hands held up to the level of his abdomen. "I can assure you." He had made sure his face dropped the flippancy.

Despite the uncertainty, Hawkeye obliged. Her heartbeat surged drastically as the curtain was pulled over.

"Relax..." The doctor said.

He then unzipped Hawkeye's pants and pulled it down so that he could see the flesh on her lower abdomen.

"Nine weeks..." The doctor muttered. "It may be a long shot."

Using a towel, he covered her hip, tucking the edge slightly into her underwear. After squeezing some gel on her lower abdomen, where it was close to the pubic bone, he picked up a rod, which one of its ends was attached to a cord that extended all the way to the speaker.

"Now..." The doctor cleared his throat, then flicked the switch on the speaker. "Oh baby!" The doctor cooed, he turned a few dials on the speaker. "Come out and play with Uncle Kevin..."

Hawkeye tried to stifle her laugh. Her childhood friend, a grown man, was cooing her unborn child.

"Oh, you think this is funny?" The doctor asked.

Hawkeye swore that she saw him blushing.

The doctor let her be. He had partly achieved his purpose.

With the tip of the rod pressed onto Hawkeye's abdomen firmly, he tilted the tip slightly, letting the gel spread.

"There!" The doctor said.

It came like lightning. The sound, faint like whisper, but firm and energetic. It was as if she was listening to a moving train, a miniature one.

"One hundred and sixty four," The doctor said, watching his watch. "Not bad huh?" He raised his head. His smile faded.

Hawkeye had a hand covered her mouth. Eyes pinched shut. Tears streamed from the corner of her eyes and moistened her temple.

"Eight weeks was the record, right?" The doctor’s eyes turned soft. "This little one has made it to the ninth."

A life at nine weeks, so small and fragile, yet survived against all odds.

"Thank you, Kevin," she sobbed. "Thank you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may like to torture these two, but I am not a cruel person.


	10. Good News? Bad news?

"You're doing fine," Huskie drew the curtain away, then went to his table and picked up a pen. "You can maintain whatever routine as long as it does not harm the baby," He told her.

Hawkeye propped herself up to sit on the side of the examination table. "The Eye..." Hawkeye said. "The Commander told me that pregnancy can affect its stability. Is that what happened to me?"

"To a degree... yes." The doctor scribbled on a form. "But, I won't worry about it. Considering the Eye was known to have healing effect, it may be just how the Eye coped with increased energy demand." He inserted the tip of the pen into a holder.

The doctor looked up and asked, "Any other questions?"

Hawkeye shook her head slowly.

"Your prescription. Just pick it up on your way out."

She stood up and approached the doctor.

"Congratulations, Riza." The doctor smiled. "Next time, tell Mustang to use a condom."

It was Huskie's turn to laugh. His friend's face was as red as tomato.

Hawkeye snatched the prescription form and stormed out. She could still hear the laughter even when she closed the door behind. She swore. One of these days...

"General..."

Hawkeye turned her head.

It was Ross standing at the waiting area. Her face filled with concern.

"You are still here?" Hawkeye walked passed her aide.

Ross sprinted, trying to keep abreast with her superior. "It's been hours since you were in the examination room. Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine." Brief as usual. She tried not to glance to her aide, but through the corner of her eyes she had sensed that Ross was still not convinced.

Hawkeye suddenly felt like a liar as she approached a pharmacist. Still, she had learnt not to react to it.

An officer on duty came forward. Ross saw Hawkeye submitted a note to the officer, who then returned with a loaded paper bag.

"And that is?" Ross asked, knowing well that she might have stepped out of her line.

"Supplements." Hawkeye picked up the bag. "For the baby..."

The captain followed her superior to the exit. "What?" She suddenly shouted. "You mean... you mean you are..." Ross stammered, staring at Hawkeye.

The general turned her head and looked at Ross disapprovingly. "Yes, Captain. I'm pregnant." She closed her eyes. "You can stop making a scene now." She walked to the opposite direction.

"Sir!" Ross quickly catched up to Hawkeye. Her eyes glowed with amaze. "That is good news!" She said, tried to control the elation. "Congratulations!"

Hawkeye breathed out. "Thanks. Can you keep it to yourself? These few weeks... it's critical that the brigade stay on course and not get distracted."

Ross' heart dropped. "General?" She doubted that the training could continue.

Hawkeye looked at her aide.

"South Border has declared Code Zero, and Central Command has enforced Code Blue on West and East Region."

Hawkeye fell silent, fixed her eyes downward, scowling.

Code Blue was a signal to military bases to be on standby. In other words, the brigade were to return to Fort Wellesley immediately.

"Captain." Hawkeye looked at Ross. "We have work to do."

That day was rather special. After graduating from a brutal survival course in Briggs, the Second Brigade left for good, looking forward to the scorching heat and dusty land in Wellesley.

"You seem defeated..."

A bitter aroma prompted Dunley to open his eyes.

Dunley snorted. "You should take a look at yourself." He received the warm cup from Tomahawk.

Sitting beside the colonel, Tomahawk slouched his back. "A week without food and water. I am impressed that I actually made it."

"We've had such training before, but never without food and water." Dunley noted.

"And you forgot that there was no Briggs soldier that ambushed you." Tomahawk leaned his back and lifted his head up. "Have you heard? South Border had been breached."

"Yeah..." Dunley said, sipping the soot-like drink from the cup. "Code Blue... I wonder if that is why we are taking a detour to Central Command."

"No, the SOP says we should have followed the rest of the brigade to Wellesley. Something is up."

Dunley could feel it too. "Tomahawk, you think we'll be deployed to South?"

"Are you worried?" Tomahawk folded his arms behind his head.

The colonel snorted. "Never!" His heart pumped. "This is what I’ve been waiting."

"You are starting to enjoy it, aren't you?"

"Enjoy what?"

"General Hawkeye's way of doing things."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Dunley exclaimed. Tomahawk's remark was insulting. "All she did was sending us away to different regions. She should have trained us herself. That’s what I would do."

"Yeah?" Tomahawk looked askance. "I have been watching you holding that training program since we left Wellesley." He pointed his chin to a thin stack on Dunley's lap. "You're like studying for an exam of sort."

"Can you quit it already?" Dunley scowled. "As the XO, I have the duty to lead the brigade when the Commander was absent."

Tomahawk rubbed his chin and grinned wider.

"What?" Dunley felt uneasy.

"You said 'the' brigade, instead of 'my' brigade. And, you look a lot conformed to being an XO. Change of heart?"

Dunley turned his head away to face the window, watching the cone trees passed before his eyes.

"Well, why not?" Tomahawk said, prompting Dunley to face the former again. "Having witnessed the way Briggs works, it is not bad to have a 'queen' to lead our brigade at all."

Dunley shut his eyes in disapproval. "A queen? Don't make me laugh. We are not under the rule of a monarch." He sipped the black liquid and laid the cup on the table. "Even if we were, I would never acknowledge her to be my queen."

"All right, all right." Tomahawk waved his palms down repeatedly. It was enough said.

"General..." Ross nudged gently. "General..."

While Hawkeye had gained tremendous strength, Ross noted that it was momentary. Moreover, the penalty came with it made Hawkeye dozed off easily whenever she was at rest.

The general opened her eyes, briefly stared out at the neatly organized documents on her table. "Oh no! What time is it?"

"Almost midnight, ma'am.”

"You should have woken me up!" Hawkeye said, looking more alert than before.

"I did, ma'am," Ross said. "But you were sound asleep," she smiled. "Why don't you leave the rest to me and retire for the night?"

Hawkeye had to admit that the offer was very much welcomed. Besides, she did manage to finish her preparation work. "All right," she said, standing up. "You should not work too late yourself." Hawkeye then picked up her belongings and headed out of the office.

"See you in the morning, General," Ross saluted.

Outside the main building, Black Hayate was stirred up by footsteps. After stretched his body, the dog trotted to his owner, following her as she set foot on the sandy road.

"How was your day, Hayate?" Hawkeye asked.

The dog yelped.

"Good to hear that," Hawkeye said, as if she understood what the dog said. "Hayate?" She stopped, and found her dog's ears were perked. "What's the matter?"

Black Hayate sprinted ahead.

"Black Hayate!" By the time Hawkeye called, the dog had ran off. As a result, the general was forced to a pursuit. Fortunately, Black Hayate had not gone far, but stopped at a nearby indoor shooting range, wagging his tail when he saw his owner.

"No, Black Hayate!" Hawkeye said sternly to the dog.

The dog whimpered. At the same time, Hawkeye noticed that the shooting range's light was on.

The general set her foot in, surprised.

A soldier, in his brown undershirt, was cleaning and arranging the rifles on the rack.

"So, is it here where you are hiding?" Hawkeye approached the soldier, who was thrown off guard at first sight, and immediately snapped into salute. "I've tried to find you after you were released."

The soldier showed remorse on his wrinkled forehead. "You should not have." His lips pressed. "I do not worth your time."

"Why can't you put the past behind? You were just trying to save your son!" Hawkeye said.

"In the end, I failed. And, I almost killed you, Commander Mustang, and your friends," the soldier said, recalling the time he had foolishly believed Grumman to justify the harm he did to the people he should have protected. That time, turning Hawkeye and Mustang in to Grumman did sound like a fair trade.

Hawkeye stepped back. "You can punish yourself, but you can choose to forgive, Captain Bear."

"It's Sergeant Bear," Bear said curtly. "I'm starting over, and I can't do it if you are here reminding me of my past, General!" 

Hawkeye opened her mouth but left no word, thinking that she should leave for now. It was such a shame that the man she had revered was no longer the same.

The night at the dessert was very cold and chilly. The general hurried her pace to the barrack. Last thing she wanted was to be brought down with a flu.

Opened the door, stepped in, and closed the door back, Hawkeye flicked the switch in her quarters, revealing a bedroom size studio while her skin tingling with the warmth.

Black Hayate had found his favorite spot, looking comfortable beside a heater.

Hawkeye slipped the coat off her shoulder and hang it up.

Hawkeye quickly undressed and went to the bathroom. She turned on the faucet. Hot water showered her head and brought smile to her face. It was rejuvenating after a long day.

When she was done, she wrapped a towel about her body. Picking up another towel on her way out, she walked past the bed and the desk, a hand opened one of the drawers of the dresser. She took out a blue pajamas and laid it on the bed.

She turned around. A glimpse on the mirror stopped her as she let the towel slipped off her body.

A palm laid flat on her upper abdomen, she traced along the firm and toned muscles, and stopped at her lower abdomen. She touched it, noticing that it was still flat. Since two months ago, she had been growing a life inside, yet the reflection concealed every part of it. The baby had hidden itself so well.

That reminded Hawkeye the paper bag on the desk. She threw the pajamas onto herself, then dipped her hand inside the bag to retrieve a hundred-gram glass bottle. She poured some water into a mug, and a tablet on her hand. The water flushed tablet down her throat. Closed the bottle, she held it in her hand, realized that those folic acids would be part of her diet in future seven months.

Her hand reached to her lower abdomen again. Lips curved into a smile. She was grateful that the baby came to her and prayed that she could meet him or her soon.

The silver ring bound on her finger glittered under the dim light. Just one more day, she would tell the father when they reunite for the first time as a family.

Mustang stood before the board, overlooking the South region. Some fringes of his hair which was previously slicked back dangled over his forehead. Bold lines that marked the boundary between the State and Aerugo were as thick as the creases on his forehead. All he could see were dense red dots that stretched along the border and peaked at South City.

"Commander." Havoc came in. His eyes glanced to the left. Except Mustang, all personnel in the war room were busy. Some operated the radios. Others deciphered codes. The grave situation brought back old memories. "How bad?" The major stopped by Mustang's side.

Eyes still fixed on the board, Mustang let out a heavy breath. "Enough..."

Havoc turned to the board. "This is the first time they are so organized."

"Not just that." Mustang said, walked to his working desk. "They know exactly where to hit, and fast." He plummeted onto a chair, and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "At this rate, they will reach Central in three days."

Havoc looked at his commander, wondering how long the latter had been staying in the war room. "Go get some rest, sir." Havoc propped a hand behind his waist. "I can take the night."

Mustang showed a weak smile. "You sure? I remember approving your leave. Shouldn't you be at home?"

"No big deal. My woman is strong enough to handle a few hours without me."

"Thanks, major." Mustang got up to his feet. "I'll be back by sunrise." Stepped away from his desk, Mustang headed to the door, paused his feet, and turned around. "By the way, congratulations! I heard Grace is expecting."

"Thanks, Commander..." Havoc put a hand behind his head. "We are thinking about naming it after you if it's a boy." He smiled. "We wouldn't be together if it weren't for you."

"Roy Junior?" Mustang raised his brow. "Please don't..." He shook his head.

"Why not?"

Mustang frowned. "Think about it... It doesn't sound nice!"

"What?" Havoc's hair stood, but the Commander had disappeared behind the door. He swore that Mustang was just jealous.

Outside, Mustang snorted. Two children in three years! Havoc wasted no time at all.

He walked along the hallway, still brooding on the South. Unlike the old days, the State Military did not have many State Alchemists to spare, so it was important that they were used wisely. The best scenario was to have the alchemists protected from all harms during combat. But, in real life, it was always the otherwise.

Looked ahead, Mustang found a phone on an administrative desk. He took the receiver and dialed the number. The dial tone repeated itself in a steady rhythm. Mustang wondered if he could get an answer at this hour.

"Hello?"

Mustang blinked in alert, but next second mellowed out. "Sweetheart!" He had a broad grin. "Did I wake you up?" He knew he would be reprimanded for sure.

"Commander!"

Mustang chuckled. He just loved to see her acted the way he had anticipated. Before him, she was as plain as day. "Just checking in, since you haven't called." His eyes grew sharp. "Are you doing all right?"

There was a moment of silence. _"I'm fine,"_ she sounded tired. _"Sir?"_

Mustang widened his eyes.

 _"There is something I need to tell you."_ She sounded solemn.

"What is it?" He asked.

She paused. _"We'll talk when we see each other."_

Mustang grinned. "What a coincidence. I was just thinking about bringing forward the meeting. Do you think you can catch the earliest train to Central?"

The steam engine whistled, and the locomotive pulled its heavy frame forward, slowly at first, but soon picked up speed in next few minutes.

Black Hayate stood on his hind legs. His front paws rested on the window frame. With his tongue slightly stuck out, the dog enjoyed the breeze and the moving scenery.

Hawkeye rested quietly on her seat with eyes closed. After receiving the call, Hawkeye rushed to the train station, barely packed anything with her except the documents she needed for the meeting. Good thing she remembered to leave a note to Ross. Else, the captain would have panicked, thinking Hawkeye was missing.

There she was on her way to Central. Her heart pumped and beyond control.

It was their fifth child, but the first since she received the Eye and the first to have survived nine weeks. On top of that, it was unplanned.

She knew how much Mustang wanted to start a family. But the Eye inside her body was a risk they should not belittle. With her life in the balance again…

Her heart plummeted. What if Mustang would not let her keep the child?

Looking intently at her abdomen, she touched it with her hand, and shook her head. "You'll be fine." She smiled.

The wind caressed her face, and she closed her eyes, listening to the sound of moving wheels. It reminded her of her baby's heartbeat—strong and resilient.

"Commander, we must seal the province at once. Else, Central will be under siege."

"General Yuskof, we have not finished evacuating civilians from South region. We can't seal the province now."

"Have you not noticed we don't have time? The Aerugans will be here in less than two days. There will be no more country to defend if we do not act immediately."

"Gentlemen!"

The generals turned their heads. Everyone before the table had their focus on Mustang.

"I understand your concerns, but let's not panic and hear me out." Mustang stood up and went to the board. "I have a plan, but I need volunteers."

"My division is ready to be deployed, Commander. " A major general stood up, looking confident.

"Good. Take your division to Dameno. We'll cut off Aerugan main force from there."

The generals talked among themselves. Their body language made Mustang scowl.

"Is there a problem?" Mustang asked.

"Sir, between Dameno and Forcett is the Death Valley," the standing major general said.

"I am aware of that, major general." Mustang faced the general squarely.

"Then you should know that the reason Dameno and Forcett are not linked with railroad. That place is literally filled with magma. Even the Aerugans dare not cross."

"Which is why we have an advantage. There is a narrow passage that connects Dameno and Forcett. If you can get your division to go through it quickly—"

"With all due respect... that is impossible, sir. We are talking about a division, with armor."

The rest of the generals nodded their heads.

"So, you are afraid," Mustang pointed out.

"No, sir. I just do not want to send my men to die for nothing."

Mustang slammed his hand against the board. "Bite your tongue, Rudolf! I am the CIC!"

"General Rudolf was right, Commander." Another general said. "The risk is too high. Even if you send a company of alchemists, they will not make it to Forcett."

"As I've said, we should just seal off Central."

"No, we'll attack the Aerugans up front."

Mustang clenched his fists. "No wonder..." He murmured.

The generals became quiet.

"No wonder the Briggs calls us cowards."

The generals remained mum.

Falman walked up to Mustang and whispered to the Commander. Mustang snorted a soft laugh. The timing was just right. "Send her in." He smirked.

Falman snapped his heels together and went out. The generals watched the lieutenant left. After a minute, a blond general came in. She saluted to the Commander, then to the generals before the table.

"Brigadier General Riza Hawkeye..." Mustang called. "Could you give us a brief update on your BCT?"

Hawkeye stood tall. "The brigade has completed the survival training at Briggs. That is the last phase of the program."

"General, what do you think of leading an attack from Dameno to Forcett?"

Hawkeye blinked, then glanced to the generals, noticing the tension in the room. "Through the Death Valley, sir?"

"Yes," Mustang said. "Major General Rudolf thinks it is impossible."

Hawkeye took a glimpse at Rudolf, who had looked away, but quickly returned her eyes on Mustang.

Her jaws tightened.

Mustang was exerting his confidence to the overwhelming opposition with his smirk. His eyes, however, told her that it was merely a masquerade.

Hawkeye narrowed her eyes on Mustang. She knew what he wanted. However, it was a situation best trod with caution. "May I take a look at the map, sir?" 

Mustang stepped aside, allowing Hawkeye to stand closer to the board as she fixed her eyes on the contours that stretched along the West and South border.

She blinked her eyes. "It's difficult, Commander."

The generals curved the corners of their lips. Even Mustang's wife was against him.

"...but possible."

Silence...

"General Hawkeye, what you said are out of line!"

"Outrage! This is an outrage!"

And it got worse.

Hawkeye, on the other hand, seemed to be unperturbed by the rude remarks threw at her.

Mustang snorted out a laugh in the midst of uproar. It reminded him how she made his heart skipped. "Enough!" He shouted, and the room resumed its peace. "Congratulations, General Hawkeye. Looks like you've earned yourself a promotion."

By the time Dunley and Tomahawk reached Central Command, the meeting was over. The Wellesley officers saw the top brass stormed out of the conference room crying out that a devil was at play.

Last one came out was Hawkeye, and she was looking at Dunley and Tomahawk.

Both officer snapped into salute. They could feel the growing pressure as Hawkeye approached them. "Colonel Dunley, Major Tomahawk."

Dunley and Tomahawk's hearts raced.

"The CIC has called for your presence."

Hawkeye leaned her back against the pillar, watching Black Hayate playing at the field.

"I know I can rely on you."

Hawkeye turned to her left while Mustang tardily came forward. Looking at the playful dog, Mustang smiled.

"They were right," Hawkeye said curtly. "It is a huge risk."

"Then you should have stopped me." Mustang sounded like it was nothing. "I saw you find that route."

"It is dangerous."

"You'll make it safe." He took her hand and kissed her knuckle. "Won't you?"

Hawkeye stared at him. Sometimes, she really hated him for leaving her no choice. "I'll try, but I can't guarantee it will work." She was not pretending. She really had not come up with a solution.

"It will. The Second Brigade proves it." Mustang lowered her hand.

"They are just chicklings."

"And you trust Dunley can take charge."

"Because you've forced General Rudolf's division onto my hand!" Hawkeye turned her head away. She should not have raised her voice. It was not his fault.

Mustang folded his arms behind his hip, keeping his cool. "You know I made the right choice."

She knew. Of course she knew. Otherwise, she would not have stood by his side when everyone else opposed him.

Mustang glanced to Hawkeye. His face turned gloomy after her heavy sigh. "I'm sorry." 

Hawkeye yanked Mustang's jacket, and their lips sealed together. They were oblivious to the staring passers-by.

"You're an idiot," Hawkeye said as they pulled away.

"Right." Mustang‘s eyes were soft on hers. "A charming idiot, am I not?"

She could not refute him. After all, she did marry an idiot, and he was undeniably charming.

"So what is it that you want to tell me?" 

Hawkeye's heart pounded against her ribs. If only she had told him over the phone...

"Andrew's commencement... it's next week." No, that was not what she wanted to tell him.

Mustang raised his brows, seemingly clueless. "It's that time already? Time flies, doesn't it?" He still remembered the day he found the boy lifeless on the floor. No one thought that boy would survive.

They turned to look at the sky. Tinted in orange, it was mesmerising.

"We should just adopt Andrew."

That really came out of nowhere.

Hawkeye chuckled. "Commander, he's eighteen. He doesn't need a guardian anymore."

"Which is perfect! Think about it. We don't have to worry about leaving a child behind." While his facts were technically right, Mustang's logic was never practical.

"I should go." Hawkeye had to stop indulging him. "Could you take care of Hayate for me?"

"You are kidding, right? He's a son to me."

Hawkeye rolled her eyes.

"He's a dog, I know." Mustang paused. He really wished he could freeze time. "Remember your promise. You’ll protect yourself." He brushed away her fringe, eyes trying to register her face to his mind. Who knew when he would see her again? 

She opened her mouth, closed it.

It was not a goodbye.

A quick turn on her heels, and she set off, not even bother to look back.

Thinking that playtime was over, Black Hayate sprinted towards his owner.

"Stay, Hayate!" She ordered. 

The dog braked on his paws, eyes stared longingly at his owner's back.

Hawkeye quickened her pace. She had to get out of there. Fast.

She told herself not to look back. She told herself not to think. Else, she would break, like a shattered glass.

All eyes were on Mustang, and they had a magnifying glass on her, expecting her to show her weaknesses, expecting her to fail.

No, she would not grant them that wish.

Even if she had to carry her baby to the battlefield.

And fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember reading a Royai pregnancy diary that is quite exciting in the beginning, but I think it ran out of material very soon and the story has been on hiatus ever since. I can understand the torture to write and also read such story without some conflicts. 
> 
> As a matter of fact, it is just too much fun to push these two to the limit. They will always surprise you what they are capable of.
> 
> Wish everyone a merry Christmas!


	11. A Mole among Us

Since the war started, Mustang had had barely enough sleep.

Members of the Assembly pressured him for a breakthrough. The phone rang non-stop. A while ago, he just argued with his generals over the lack of movements from the South.

It had been three weeks since Hawkeye's division was deployed.

Three weeks and no news.

Mustang locked his eyes on the isolated red tacks which crowded the bottom half of the map.

No doubt the enemy force had slowed down.

But that was a week ago.

All attempts to contact the division was to no avail.

There was a short encrypted message, however, saying that the radio towers were down.

The rest of the top brass blew their tops. The division had a signal company. Any communication challenge would have been resolved by then.

Mustang agreed, but kept the opinion to himself. There was always a valid reason, especially when it is her.

He picked up the phone on his desk, and dialed a number.

It was time to pay his old debt.

"Tell Roy to go to hell!"

"Come on, Rachael. Have mercy on him. Even though he's a jerk, he was just trying to make the story believable."

Mustang heard the women snickered. Anyway, it was too late for him to cut the feed now as the conversation was on loud speaker.

"What's wrong, Riza? It is really unlike you to call him names. Isn't he your perfect husband?"

The war room remained quiet. Even Havoc had wiped away his grin.

"You don't know?"

"Sorry for the sluggishness here. We are having some problems with radios. So, what did he do?"

"He gave me a division, Rudolf's division."

"Oh wow! He just didn't think at all, did he?"

"You know him."

"So, what's your plan? Aerugan's main force had been chasing after you like mad dogs. Do you need help?"

Nobody breathed.

"Rachael, you know that we can't talk about it over the phone."

"Oh right! I guess I've got carried away."

Mustang knitted his brow and headed out. As soon as he closed the door behind, laughter overtook the room.

"Commander!" Havoc too followed the CIC after a short sprint. "It sounds like you have two fireballs coming hot at you."

Mustang snorted. "You don't seriously think that I care, do you?"

What were those two trying to tell him? The conversation did not follow any form of codes Mustang had. And, why Rachael did not contact him at all?

"What are you thinking about, sir?" Havoc asked.

"Does the conversation sound strange to you?" Mustang knitted his brows.

"Nope." Havoc rolled his eyes up. "Grace complained to her family and girlfriends about me all the time. She sounded just like what we have heard."

"But over the phone when it is Code Zero?"

"Well, their radios are down. Maybe they did that on purpose, just so you heard them."

Havoc might have been right. But, Hawkeye and Rachael were no amateurs. Mustang trusted that they would not take uncalculated risk over some petty issue.

"We are missing something, major." Mustang said.

"Like what?"

Mustang rewound the conversation in his head. Rachael seemed to have no idea that Hawkeye had been promoted, yet somehow the lieutenant colonel knew that the Aerugans were hunting the Fourth Division.

Mustang soon came to a dead end. If only he could go to the South and find out the answer himself...

"Major Havoc." Mustang stopped his feet. "You look like you need a vacation." He smirked.

It was bad, very bad. Falman stood before the angry mob, sweating.

The mob was not ordinary people. They were members of the Assembly and generals of the State's Military.

And they demanded to see the CIC.

"How long do we have to wait?" One of them shouted.

"Gentlemen!" Falman put up his hands. "The CIC is currently engaged. Rest assured, you'll be informed when he is available."

"Tell the CIC, if we don't see him soon, I will send a corp to remove General Hawkeye from command!"

The rest of the members voiced and nodded their heads.

To Falman's relief, the crowd dispersed eventually. He quickly entered the office and snapped the door shut.

"Major!" He cried out. "What are we going to do?"

Havoc was holding a phone in one hand, another hand on his waist, teeth gnashing.

The dial tone droned on. Havoc's eyes drifted to the document. The header, 'Medical Report', was glaring to his eyes. "No one's answering!" He slammed the receiver to the hanger.

"I thought he’s coming back today?" Falman asked.

"Don't ask me!" Havoc removed the black wig from his head and threw it onto the floor. "Damn it! I should not have agreed to this!"

The phone rang.

"Hello!" Havoc shouted.

"What's with the shouting?"

Havoc recognized that flippancy. "Do you even know what is going on?" He cried out.

"Hold on! Let's not talk about Grace with your commander’s phone..."

"General Dunley, the path will be completed in two days." Tomahawk reported, facing squarely to Dunley.

"Two more days? We are already behind schedule." Dunley seemed annoyed.

Tomahawk pushed his glasses up. "The seismic activity is beyond our control."

"Even so, we have alchemists working with us. We must complete the path by tomorrow!" Dunley stood up.

"Sir, you do know that linking Dameno and Forcett is never easy."

"Yes, but if we delay it, we may lose the window to pull out a surprise attack." Dunley pointed on the blue dots at upper South. "At this rate, they will be overwhelmed soon. We have already lost contact with them."

Tomahawk understood Dunley's restlessness. They had been in Dameno for a month, each day standing still meant that another day of resource was lost. He had also noticed that the troops were starting to question what the command was doing.

"We should have been the bait."

The lieutenant colonel looked at Dunley. Yes, the Second Brigade was a smaller unit and more mobile than a division. However, they were rather new and could never stand a fierce onslaught from the enemy's major forces.

"It was General Hawkeye's decision, sir," Tomahawk said.

"But, if anything happens to the State, we'll bear the guilt, for the rest of our lives."

Tomahawk hated it too, the suffocating pressure.

"General!" A sergeant came in. "We have great news!"

Dunley raised his brows as he received a file from the sergeant. "A medical report?"

Tomahawk stepped behind Dunley with eyes peering at the content, wondering why a confidential document came to them. As Dunley flipped to the last page, the Commander and XO widened their eyes.

Lurched at the sergeant, Dunley gripped the former by the blue jacket and growled, "Where did you get this?"

Shocked, the sergeant stared at the general and could not speak.

"Sergeant, please tell me you have not done anything to it yet." Tomahawk's face twitched.

"It's... it's... from the First Brigade.” The sergeant trembled. "I think they have sent it to Central Command."

"So?"

Havoc leaned against the booth. "Central is a mess right now!"

"Yeah. I could guess as much with a mole among us."

"No, I'm not—" Havoc stopped abruptly, knitted his brows. "Did you just say a mole?"

"I've just found out recently... The reason that South has stopped communicating with us is because we have a traitor. Sorry to say this... Do you think you can hold them back for me?"

Havoc rubbed his forehead. That had just gotten better. "But sir, we have a bigger problem than a mole." Havoc huffed out. "Just this morning, we have received General Hawkeye's medical report."

"Is she sick?"

"No." Havoc peered out to the park, watching a family of three passed by. "It is a full checkup done a month ago. I don't understand why it comes to us now and not earlier."

"Just get to the point, major."

"She was nine weeks pregnant."

Silence.

"Sir?"

"Havoc! If this is a trick, I swear—"

"It is not a trick, all right!" Havoc snapped, baring his teeth. "I can send you the report!"

Short pause.

"Are you sure it is not a mistake?"

"With Dr. Huskie's name? It's as solid as a rock." Havoc waited, but the other end remained quiet. "Commander, I think you should pull her out."

Another pause.

"Who else knows about the report?"

"Well, since Lieutenant Falman managed to intercept it... only a number." Havoc's back pricked up. "Wait, you can't be thinking—"

"I need to think about the troop's morale, major."

"That is insane!" Havoc cried out. As a father, he knew better. "She should be at thirteen weeks by now. Even if we keep quiet, she's going to show!"

"Just watch your back. Curtiss will help you if you need anything."

"Commander!" Havoc pulled the receiver away, looking at it as it emitted the dead dial tone.

Mustang stared at the phone, brows pressed.

His heart pounded. His world spun.

That was a month ago—the same time she was deployed. And he was the one who sent her to the warzone.

"There is something I need to tell you."

Was that what she was trying to tell him?

Mustang reached a hand to the fabric on his chest, wrinkled it.

No wonder she was upset. How could he not notice?

"Roy, Roy!"

Mustang blinked. Eyes went wide. "Rachael?" He panted out.

"You're scaring me!" Rachael cried out. "What is going on?"

Mustang snatched his niece's wrist. "Where is Lieutenant Fuery?!"

A week ago...

He ran. As far as he could remember, he had not stopped, not for hours.

His throat was dry; a result of hyperventilation. A briefcase was squeezed between his chest and arms. His nails dug into the leather, clamping it tight.

As the barking became louder, his adrenaline too had maxed out, and each step was getting heavier and slower. He never thought he would hate dogs so much.

The memory of his friends piling up before him replayed over and over in his head. Until now, he still saw those eyes to his, and only inches away from his face.

Their blood that dripped onto him had dried, but the metallic smell lingered. The dead souls were with him, reminding him not to stop.

He jumped over the fallen tree trunks, and landed on the soft mud.

He panicked.

Eyes darted left and right.

There!

He took the briefcase, withdrew his limbs, ran forward, almost being pulled down again by his center of mass.

He did not know where he was. He only knew that the rising sun must be on his right.

The barking stopped. Perhaps the dogs have tired themselves out, but he did not plan to stop. 

It rained.

There was no cloud. The sun was still bright. But, it rained.

The sky showered metallic cylinders over him at high pitch. One after the other, they hit the ground and turned the earth to rhythmic fountains that were twice of his height.

It was not the first time that he had to dance through the hot zone. Yet, nothing except luck brought him through it. Sometimes he was unscathed. One time he lost his legs.

While he earnestly hoped that it would be his last, a random shell dropped by his feet.

Boom!

His ears buzzed. Eyes enthralled by the serenity of the red sky. A few faces entered his vision, but they were fuzzy, reminded him to get a new pair of glasses if he ever opened his eyes.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Roy finally finds out. Will he be too late?
> 
> Come back again on New Year to learn more.
> 
> Thanks again for the comments!


	12. Muffled

"If we strike now, we can still pick up the momentum and force the Aerugans back within two weeks," A lieutenant colonel said, drawing an invisible line down from mid-South to the border.

Really? One proposal everyday? If Hawkeye needed one, she would have asked. Why was it so hard for them to trust her?

"The artillery is ready to support, General." A colonel backed up

 _Sure you are._ Hawkeye kept her eyes on the board. Her mind, however, had been a hostage to the fullness in her throat.

"General?" The colonel called.

Hawkeye lowered her head. Eyes covered by her fringes. A soft grunt rattled in her throat.

"General, if we set the troops now, we can end the war in a few days."

Nope, she could not listen anymore.

Hawkeye put a hand on her stomach. _Please, just let me finish this._ She took a deep breath.

"General!"

"Reject!" Hawkeye shot a glare to her officers.

"But General Hawkeye, we have been waiting for the unknown ally to come to us since a week ago. If we continue to sit still, the Aerugans will eventually turn the tide," the colonel said.

"When did you receive that intel?" Hawkeye asked.

"Three days ago, General."

"What is the enemy's current position? Any reinforcement?"

The division staff opened their mouths, closed back.

"Now, if there is nothing else..." Hawkeye trailed off, eyes directed her staff to the exit.

The staff saluted and walked away.

Ross' eyes followed the last staff out, praying hard that the latter would quicken his pace and not look back. 

Her prayer was answered.

Ross turned around, picked up a trash can, and thrusted it to Hawkeye, just in time before the latter leaned her head over and spilled her guts out.

No matter how many times she heard the sound, Ross always shivered involuntarily.

"Thank you..." Hawkeye leaned back on the chair. Eyes closed. 

Ross laid the trash can to a corner. She returned with knitted brows.

Hawkeye's face had drained of any colors of a healthy person should have. Even breathing was a labor.

"Ma’am, I think you need to see a doctor," Ross said.

"Let me take a look." A soldier came in. A leather case slung over his shoulder.

"Kevin?" Hawkeye peered out tiredly. "Why are you here?"

"To help out with the triage." Huskie laid his toolbox on the desk. 

Ross took the hint and exited the tent to stand guard.

"Though, the situation seemed to have eased down a little." Huskie took out a pen torch. He flashed the light to Hawkeye's eye as he pressed the lower eyelid down. The inner flesh was all pale. "How long have you been throwing up?" Huskie clicked the light off and kept the pen in his chest pocket.

"A few days…” He barely heard her. 

"Now that I think about it, not having any symptoms is such a blessing." 

"Don't give up yet." After taking Hawkeye's blood pressure, Huskie took a glass bottle filled with clear liquid and hung it up. "You still have me to cheer you up.” That was when Hawkeye felt her arm poked. 

Even if there was a knife on her throat, Hawkeye did not think she had any energy to defend herself.

“Do you have something more practical?” It was no joke. Hawkeye could feel that the gravity was losing its hold on her.

Huskie taped the tube to secure the line on her arm. "Twice a day." He produced a small bottle of pills from the toolkit and laid it on the desk.

“That is a month late, Doc.”

Huskie smirked. “A physician only prescribes medicine if and only if the patient needs it.” 

Whatever. As long as she could be herself again.

The doctor put a stack of documents on the desk. "I need your signature for the supplies." Huskie stopped. "What?" He frowned.

Hawkeye's face softened, shoulders lightened. Half smiled, she said, "You should be yelling at me by now."

"Do you want me to?" Huskie asked.

Hawkeye shook her head. It was good to have her best friend by her side when she needed help.

He opened his eyes. The blurry vision had forbidden him from recognizing the place he was at, but he could tell that it was foreign to him.

"You're awake!"

The girl's voice brought him to sit up. A spell hit his head and he dropped his back onto the bed.

"Take it easy, Lieutenant."

"You know me?"

"It's me, Winry." Her voice was angelic.

"Miss Rockbell? Where am I?" He started to panic. He looked to the left, and the right. He could not find it.

"You are looking for this?" Winry held a briefcase up.

He snatched it off Winry's hands, opened it to reveal a typewriter-like device. It fitted snugly inside the case. "Miss Rockbell, please..." He implored. "I need to contact the Fourth Division immediately!"

Hawkeye quickened her pace as she marched down the sandy road.

How could she forget to check the refugee camps?

The general set foot to the medical bay, picking up a familiar face. "Lieutenant Fuery?"

"Miss Riza!"

"General!" Fuery fought back tears in his eyes. He really thought he had grown more mature and seasoned. It was only when he faced his old teammate, that he would break his principle and returned to be the youngest member of Mustang's team.

Hawkeye stepped closer to take a good look on the lieutenant. She saw bruises and scratches covering Fuery's face and body. Other than the stumps on the lieutenant's legs, Fuery seemed to be fine.

Hawkeye turned to Winry, smiled. "Thank you for saving the lieutenant, Winry."

Winry shook her head. "The soldiers found him. I'm here to fix his automail."

Fuery lowered his head to look at the metallic sockets on his thighs, realized that the bomb had dropped nearby his legs. Had he not lost his flesh legs during the insurgence some years ago, he would have to go through the long recovery process again.

"You were the one who had been feeding us intel," Hawkeye said. "What happened last week?"

"The Aerugans discovered our hideout." Fuery said, messaging his stumps.

"How was that possible?" Hawkeye's brows pressed down. "If you had followed Central's order to the next location..."

Winry heard the general gasp.

"Yes, General. Central Command is compromised." Fuery looked squarely at Hawkeye.

Hawkeye could never forget what it was like to fight without a guide. In the midst of chaos, codes were sent to her division. Without them, the State's Military would never be able to defend themselves, least for an offense. "And the new prototype?"

Fuery pulled a briefcase up and reached Hawkeye’s hands.

Hawkeye gripped on the briefcase but Fuery had not let go. She looked at the lieutenant.

Fuery’s eye pierced hers. "Hundreds died protecting it." 

Hawkeye looked at the briefcase. Again, they failed to protect those precious lives. “It will be in good hands.” That was a promise to the brave souls that were forever gone.

Fuery clenched his jaws as if trying to hold his pain. He let go the briefcase.

Metal clanked. Glass shattered.

The briefcase was gone. They only saw a woman in white uniform ran off.

Hawkeye took out her pistol and aimed. She could not shoot, not without incurred innocent casualties.

Dashing for the exit, Hawkeye cried out, "Fix the lieutenant's automail and get out of here now!" And she was out.

Cries from the crowd pointed Hawkeye to the East. She launched herself forward, closing the distance between her and her pursuit.

Pressured, the spy flashed a gun and opened fire randomly, injuring several.

Big mistake.

As the crowd dispersed, the narrow alley became wide open. Hawkeye raised her gun, taking her time to aim at the leg.

_Bang!_

The spy fell prone on the ground. The briefcase in her hand flung out.

Hawkeye walked forward, disregarded the spy groaning in pain, and bent her back for the briefcase.

"General Hawkeye!" Ross too had arrived at the scene, bringing with her a squadron of military police.

"Just in time, major." Hawkeye passed the briefcase to Ross while the military police lifted the injured spy up. "Take her for questioning. We must find out who her accomplices are."

The military police dragged the woman away. "Ma’am!"

Ross rushed to the spy.

Foams dripped onto the ground. 

Hawkeye watched the major pressed two fingers on the spy's neck. 

Ross looked at Hawkeye and shook her head.

"Imbecile! A bunch of imbeciles!"

"General, we can still infiltrate Amestrisian's camp to retrieve the Enigma." An Aerugan captain said.

"Do you seriously think that they will leave the prototype unguarded?" The general yelled. "Besides, we don't even know where they are hiding!"

"General." An operator called, covering his headphones with a hand.

The general smirked. "Finally! I've been waiting to flush these rabbits out." He approached the operator and pressed his palms flat on the table.

"But sir, it's a phone call."

"Phone? What are they talking about?"

The operator's face grew awkward. "I'm not sure if this is relevant." He flicked a few switches.

_"Tell Roy to go to hell!"_

_"Come on, Rachael. Have mercy on him. Even though he's a jerk, he was just trying to make the story believable."_

The veins on the general's temple grew prominent as he heard the women giggled. "You sure you have tapped the right channel?"

The operator looked at the display and connections on his radio, nodded his head.

"General," the captain said, "if I'm not mistaken, they are talking about Amestrian CIC, Roy Mustang."

_"What's wrong, Riza? It is really unlike you to call him names. Isn't he your perfect husband?"_

_"You don't know?"_

_"Sorry for the sluggishness here. We are having some problems with radios. So, what did he do?"_

_"He gave me a division, Rudolf's division."_

_"Oh wow! He just didn't think at all, did he?"_

_"You know him."_

_"So, what's your plan? Aerugan's main force had been chasing after you like mad dogs. Do you need help?"_

The Aerugans perked their ears.

_"Rachael, you know that we can't talk about it over the phone."_

_"Oh right! I guess I've got carried away."_

The operator took the headphone off. "Sorry General, we were very close."

Close. They might be even closer. Any commanding officer knew not to babble over the phone, even if the radios were not working. It could be some sort of code that Aerugans did not know.

"Give the new prototype schematics to the signal corp. Now!" The general shouted.

Everything was set.

While waiting, the Fourth Division had gathered enough intel on the enemies. The seemingly insignificant skirmish and distraction tactics had finally paid off.

Hawkeye breathed out slowly, rubbing on her stomach in a smooth stroke. She could feel the waistline grown. A sign that she might not have much time.

Ross came in and put a cup of water on Hawkeye's desk. "Are you okay, ma’am?"

Hawkeye smiled. "Yes, just a little queasy."

"Is the medicine not working?"

"It isn't the medicine." Hawkeye's eyes softened, lowered to her stomach. "This is something different."

"A maternal instinct, ma’am?" Ross asked.

Hawkeye did not know how to answer that question, but the nausea seemed more than just a symptom. For instance, the nausea was worst when her troops were pinned, eased down when Fuery was found, returned when she saw hope. It was like the baby had been reacting to her emotion.

"How is Lieutenant Fuery?" Hawkeye asked.

"He had reached the Shelter. The new prototype is in good hands."

"Let's hope so." Hawkeye said. "Get everyone ready. We are going for bird hunting."

The low humming of giant tanks vibrated the murky ground. With the infantry flanking both sides, the armors trudged forward.

Hawkeye looked at the pocket watch in her hand, then peered out to the moving convoy.

"General!" Ross stepped out and saluted. "We are ready to the next checkpoint."

Hawkeye looked up to the sky. It was eight at night, yet the residue sunlight refused to relinquish its reign to darkness. "We have to be quick." Hawkeye narrowed her eyes.

Loud concerted thumps drew their attention.

A group of blue berets ran towards them in neat square. They stopped at a few feet away, facing Hawkeye and Ross. Holding submachine guns before their chest, the formation split into two rectangular files.

"I guess I've made it just in time." A lieutenant general emerged between the two lines, rubbing a hand against an old stroke on his cheek.

Hawkeye and Ross snapped their heels together. "Lieutenant General Hood!" They saluted.

Hood's grey hair shimmered under the dusk. His eyes gave a full sweep from left to right. "No wonder Central had difficult time locating you. Moving somewhere, again?"

"Sir, we are getting ready for an offense." Hawkeye pressed her brows together.

"Offense?" The lieutenant general raised his brow. "Yes, I agree. But, it should have been done a week ago. Had you not stalled and failed to report to Central Command, the Aerugans would have been long gone!" Hood cried out.

Hawkeye lowered her hand and took a step forward. "I can explain, General."

Hood extended his arm as a document laid on it. "Explain this!" He threw it onto the ground, prompting Hawkeye to pick it up. Hood smirked at the wide eyes. "Surprised how I found it?"

Indeed.

"You should thank the medical corp for their scrupulous adherence to the system," Hood said.

Hawkeye gritted her teeth, crumbled the document as her hand squeezed it.

"Major General, tell me..." The staff in Hood's hand stabbed into the soft ground. "What could be a high-rank officer's intention to conceal her pregnancy?"

Ross lurched forward, but was blocked by Hawkeye's hand.

Hood turned his eyes to Ross. "I see." He swung the staff up and pointed it at Ross. "You have an accomplice." Hood's staff poked the ground again. "Take them away."

Hood's men surrounded Hawkeye and Ross.

"Sir, Central Command is compromised!" Hawkeye flinched as her arms were twisted to her back, restrained in a pair of handcuffs. "The new code can protect our troops!" She shouted at the top of her lungs. "We have to move to the next checkpoint, sir! The Second BCT depends on us!"

Her captors were deaf to her appeal, pushing her and Ross forward without mercy.

The colonel of Fourth Division went to Hood and saluted.

"Tell Central our location and request for reinforcement," Hood said. "We'll attack Aerugan main force at zero four hundred."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When everything turns against her, she fights on with the hope she will return to him who waits for her at home.
> 
> She is a soldier, a wife, and a mother-to-be.
> 
> She is Riza Hawkeye.
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone!


	13. Cornered

"General, the Fourth Division had initiated an attack!" A captain reported.

Tomahawk frowned. "Why didn't they inform us?"

Dunley stood up and walked to meeting table. "Coordinate and status?"

The captain approached the opposite side of the table, and pointed on the map. "Charlie Four, heading South East."

Tomahawk was alarmed. "That is a large area to cover!"

"But, they are almost reaching South City," The captain said.

"Impossible!" Tomahawk said.

Dunley crossed his arms, eyes kept on the map. While he doubted that the Fourth Division could fly, he was not surprised that it had reached South City. The brigade's last contact with the division was a day ago. And based on how the division was moving, Dunley was certain that something had happened in the division.

"Sound the alarm!" Dunley exclaimed. "We're going in hot!"

"General?"

Hawkeye opened her eyes. "Sorry, major." Despite the stress and adversity, drowsiness still triumphed in the end. "It's really hard to keep myself awake these days."

"Actually..." Ross smiled. "I think it's good that you can get some rest. Besides..." Ross glanced out of the truck. "We are not going anywhere."

"Right. I wonder why they have not moved us already." Hawkeye fumbled with the handcuffs behind her back. Her hands had gone numb after the short nap.

The mild sun broke into the vehicle and warmed their legs.

Ross sighed. "General, do you think the Second BCT knows what's going on?"

Hawkeye chuckled. "Have you forgotten who they are?"

Ross squinted her eyes. "Chicklings?"

"One thing I can count on is their rebellion."

"But from what you have told General Hood, I thought—"

"It wasn't the brigade that I'm worried about, major." Hawkeye then peered out to the incessant movements of the infantries and armored vehicles. "It's us."

"Why, General? Lieutenant General Hood is a highly decorated veteran and has led many tours, including the Ishval Civil War. With his experience, he should be able to make a breakthrough."

"I agree..." Hawkeye turned to Ross, breathed out, then cast her eyes onto the deck. "You are right." It was not their fight anymore.

The siren disagreed. High frequency screech pierced both officers' ears, just before the earth shook.

At the division command post...

"Command to Alpha One!" A radio operator shouted. "You are hitting friendly! I repeat! You are hitting friendly!" He leaned forward, bracing himself against incessant shockwaves.

"General!" A soldier barged in. "Report from Southern Front!"

"Quick!" Hood's face lightened. "Did they manage to capture South City?"

The soldier grimaced. "They have been annihilated, sir."

Hood's knees buckled and plummeted onto a chair, bewildered.

The ground continued to vibrate as more explosive shells struck the base. It was getting impossible for anyone to stand without any form of support.

"General! Enemy spotted in Rush Valley!" The operator shouted.

"What?" Hood slammed his fist on the table. "Where is the reinforcement? How could they let the Aerugan slip through us?"

The operator took a pen and wrote on a piece of paper. "The enemy's coordinate and the reinforcement's radio signal origin..." His eyes widened. "They came from the same place!"

_"Sir, Central Command is compromised!"_

Hood blinked his eyes. With regret, he entered Hades' fiery embrace.

"Retreat! Retreat!"

"It is too late to retreat now, Colonel Stalin!"

Stalin turned and found Hawkeye and Ross. "Major General Hawkeye? Major Ross? How did you—"

Hawkeye's eyes fixed on the burning base. "Where is General Hood?" Her brows pressed down.

Stalin tightened his jaws together. Eyes cast down. He had given his answer.

"Colonel..." Hawkeye's tone implored. "We cannot let the Aerugans breach our South defense."

Stalin looked at Hawkeye, pain written on his face. "Unfortunately, general, these are what left of us." His eyes turned to a group of infantry with the size of no more than one company.

They were standing on a completely destroyed base. No tanks, no artillery support, and unable to identify their friends from foes. What would be their odds to make a breakthrough with just a company of soldiers?

Hawkeye curved the corner of her lips up. "That is more than enough, colonel."

The brown uniforms stormed in and splitted into several platoons. The air choked with smoke and burning organics. The Aerugans went past the destroyed vehicles, strode over dead bodies that were disseminated throughout the soil. Even when they were dead, the Amestrian soldiers served as stumbling blocks to Aerugans.

A platoon soon came to a camp. They seized all the documents they could find, not even noticed that there was a bleeping device under the table...

_Boom!_

The explosion alerted the rest of the brown uniforms. The lowered rifles in their arms raised, eyes vigilantly searching for rats that had survived.

It was not an easy task. However, with most of the infrastructure made of canvas, the hideouts narrowed to a few.

One most obvious telltale was the pile of sandbags—perfect cover against bullets.

That time, the Aerugans had learnt their lesson. Instead of charging ahead, why not let a single grenade do the job?

Smart move, unless the grenade hit twenty drums of gasoline. That equaled to an impressive firework visible to their brigade leader from a mile away, without the need of binoculars.

After the second ambush, it was wise to report in and retreat until further instruction was given. Thanks to the gasoline fire, visibility had lowered to below five feet.

The last platoon had all their sensory wide open, looking out for each other as they exited the enemy base. In just another hundred feet, they would be safe.

By the way, was it just them or that their shortest route to exit seemed to be longer than they had expected?

The platoon leader held his fist up. His team halted.

the leader crouched as his eyes caught a fine line glistening about six inches above ground—a tripwire booby trap. Sloppy!

Waved to his team, the leader carefully stepped over the wire while his team imitated.

_Bang!_

One man down. The rest panicked.

A clumsy boot pulled the wire, and it set off the trigger.

"That's the last.” Ross ducked behind a destroyed tank, along with her comrades, as the third explosion resonated in her ears.

"We've taken out a company." Stalin curved his lips into a smile. "I'm starting to believe that we can get out of this."

Hawkeye shifted the rifle that rested vertically against her shoulder. "Split up. Remember—"

"Divide and conquer." Stalin smirked. "Leave it to me, general. Stay safe."

Hawkeye returned a firm nod.

Stalin stood up. "You heard the general! Move out!" The colonel charged ahead. The rest of the company followed his lead.

"What is the meaning of this!" A general shouted out. "How dare you lock us in here without a valid explanation!"

The rest of the top brass in the conference room grumbled.

"Generals... I can assure you that this is going to be over soon." Havoc smiled. "Please be patient."

As usual, the generals refused to listen. Havoc could care less. The major had another task to handle.

Havoc exited to get some fresh air. He turned his head to see a group of officers marched into the hallway. Leading ahead was Havoc's old teammate.

"First Lieutenant Fuery!" Havoc beamed. "Good to see you again!" He reached out his hand.

"Sir, show me the war room!" Fuery shot out, without slowing his pace.

"Go straight and turn left. What's wrong?"

"No time to explain. Just follow me."

"Hey... since when did you get to order me around?" Havoc scowled, feet had moved along.

"Since I am a special officer appointed by the CIC himself." Fuery showed his smirk proudly.

Havoc's face turned ashen. Even the youngest member among them had outshone him.

Fuery stormed into the war room. "Hands in the air, everyone!"

The armed soldiers that came along with him spread out in the room, pointed the semi-automatic machine guns to the operation staff, forcing the staff out of the war room.

"Is this even necessary?" Havoc asked.

"The fastest way to keep the mole out." Fuery turned to Havoc. "Should you stand here, major? The CIC said to leave the interrogation to you."

"You are telling me now?" Havoc dashed out, to where the armed soldiers headed.

The rest of Fuery's team jumped into their respective post and resumed the disrupted activities.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Let's put the State back on the grid!" Fuery grinned.

If firefight was a game, then Hawkeye and her team were the 'campers'. Unlike a simulation, there was no time limit and penalty. Hence, the Aerugans had to oblige and played along.

It was a good thing, Hawkeye thought, because no one had as much patience as a sniper. During the Ishval Civil War, she could stay in one spot for five days straight just to catch a few strayed Ishvalan children on her crosshair.

And the tide had turned. The hunter became the hunted.

Hawkeye knew she had to pay her blood debt one day. She just did not know that she had to pay it with one more life—the one she was carrying.

Hawkeye pulled the trigger as she snorted a silent laugh.

Another brown uniform, accounted to ten, had fallen under her snipe. She pushed the lever on the rifle up, pulled back the bolt, and reversed the actions.

Call her a coward, but she did not intend to clean her slate just yet.

Hawkeye glanced to her right, noticing Ross had pulled out a handgun and returned a few shots—not a good sign.

She wiped away the sweat under her chin and took a glimpse to the glaring sun. If they continued to stay there, dehydration could hit them before their enemy did.

"Grenade!" Ross shouted.

Hawkeye ducked immediately. That was it! Time to get the hell out of there.

"Major Ross!" Hawkeye scurried to her adjutant. "Are you hurt?"

Ross had her knees on the ground, back facing Hawkeye. "I think I sprained my arm." Ross squeezed on her wound, stood up, and turned around. "General!"

Hawkeye's ears buzzed as the pulverized dust sprinkled all over her. If she was asked what she hated most about the war beside taking lives, disorientation and impaired sensory would have topped the list.

"Major?" Hawkeye propped herself up. An unsteady view brought her to a body lying prone on the ground. "Major Ross!" Hawkeye got up and rushed to her adjutant.

She rolled Ross over, relieved when she could still feel a pulse on the neck. Hawkeye gave a brief check for external wounds, and there was none. It seemed like her adjutant was lucky enough, though Hawkeye could not rule out internal bleeding just yet.

Either way, Hawkeye had to take Ross to safety, at least the safest place she could find.

Wrapped her neck with one of Ross' arms, Hawkeye dragged the invalid major away. She had to move quickly, before the Aerugans found them.

Another short burst of gunfire rang in her ears, then nothing else.

Hawkeye hastened her pace. As much as she did not want to think about it, her instinct told her that she and her adjutant might be the last of the division.

And, there was no other place to go.

The foreign roar prompted Hawkeye to hide behind a heap of ruins while she unwrapped Ross' arm and laid the latter on the ground.

With her handgun pulled out, Hawkeye sprinted past an enemy fireteam, just enough to draw the Aerugans' attention to her.

No matter what, she had to distract the enemy so that Ross would have a chance to survive.

That was also only if any help was coming at all.

The ground swayed. Each step touched the ground was lighter than the one before, as if gravity had lost its effects.

After a sharp turn to the left, Hawkeye's boots skidded against the rocky ground.

Brown uniforms, a company of them, armed and ready.

The worst thing? Her pursuers from a while ago had just arrived.

Hawkeye gritted her teeth. The gun in her hand raised. If the innocent lives she had taken was demanding their due, so be it!

A snap of fingers in crisp. A flash of red electrical lightning cut in. Hawkeye stood in the middle of a fire circle as screams and burning stench permeated the air.

"Looks like you've gained some foreign admirers, major general."

A shadow loomed through the blazing flame.

Hawkeye watched as the silhouette of her savior became apparent. A cocky grin captured her eyes.

That was one grand entrance she never loathed.

"Was that why you did not answer my call?" Mustang asked.

Hawkeye lowered her gun as Mustang walked up to her. 

"Hold still!" Mustang grabbed her shoulder. Eyes drifted to her forehead. The grimace on his face alarmed her.

"Sir?" Hawkeye felt Mustang's gloved hand pressed on her forehead, making her wince. All that while she thought it was the sun that scorched her.

"Let's get you out of here." Mustang prompted.

She nodded her head and inserted her handgun into the holster behind her back. The giddiness had begun to overwhelm her. "My subordinates..."

"The response team will find them." Mustang shifted himself so that he was standing beside Hawkeye, keeping one hand on her forehead, the other supported her by the arm.

The couple braced against the incoming troops. Blue wave reflected on their eyes.

"Commander!" Breda hurried to Mustang. "The Aerugans are withdrawing."

"No they don't," Mustang growled. Since when those scum had the right to step on Amestris’ soil and leave as they pleased?

"Colonel Dunley and his brigade have recaptured South City," Breda reported. "They are now pursuing the Aerugan main force."

"No. The legion is too strong for the BCT to handle alone."

The three of them watched as more explosive shells hailed on the base.

"She needs medical attention," Mustang told Breda.

"Commander?" Hawkeye found herself being delivered onto Breda's hands.

"I'll be back, I promise." Mustang recognized the flicker in her eyes. 

“Sir!” Hawkeye stopped him. "Come home safely." She smiled. "There is someone I would like you to meet."

Mustang smirked. "It's a deal then." He turned around and sprinted to the battlefield.

Hawkeye's eyes lingered on the blazing military base. After the fight with Bradley, she had grown appalled at the thought of Mustang facing the enemy without her.

"Come on, General Hawkeye," Breda said. "Let's get a medic to look at that wound."

Hawkeye followed Breda nonetheless. After all, she had a promise to keep, and she believed Mustang would keep his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, for one, is a big fan of Roy’s grand entrance.
> 
> His timing is always impeccable.
> 
> What do you think?


	14. Thank You, Daddy!

"The war with the Aerugans may be over, but the hunt for traitors continues. The special task force has identified a few suspects who might have colluded with the Aerugans and contributed to the annihilation of the Fourth Division. One of them, was the division commander, Major General Riza Hawkeye..."

Mustang lowered his hand from his forehead and found Havoc standing before the silenced radio. He heaved out, appreciating the quietness his office had returned to. Had he not left her and went back to the battlefield, she would not have...

"Commander, it is a standard procedure to question the commander first," Curtiss said. "When they find no evidence, they will release General Hawkeye."

"I know, Curtiss." Mustang sounded impatient. "But she has been held for two weeks and I am not even allowed to visit her."

"Is it even legal to hold someone in custody for so long?" Havoc asked.

"Yes." It was Falman who answered as he flipped a page on the newspaper. "Investigation on military misconduct and espionage is a lengthy process. And since there is a witness, the task force can hold her up to three months without trial."

"You can't be serious! For all we know that so-called witness is an Aerugan spy!" Havoc cried out.

"I’m not waiting any longer." Mustang stood up. "I’m getting her out myself." He headed to the door.

"You are not going anywhere, Commander." Curtiss stood before Mustang.

"Please... Curtiss. They will interrogate her until she breaks."

"I know, sir, but think about it. They have not put a charge yet, which means that she is still holding up. If you break the law for her, no one will trust that she is innocent anymore. Worse, you will get arrested too!"

"Curtiss has a point, Commander," Havoc said. "General Hawkeye will be very pissed if you end up in jail."

Mustang growled. "There must be something that we can do!" He stormed back to his seat.

"First Lieutenant Falman, can you stop reading the papers and help us out?" Havoc asked.

"Sorry, major. I'm just fascinated by the coverage." Falman held the newspaper up. "Look at the extensive details the media had gathered about General Hawkeye—her military career and lineage... These are essentially her life in a nutshell."

"Right!" Curtiss struck his fist on his palm. "You are a genius, Lieutenant Falman."

Mustang blinked. It seemed like Curtiss did have a way after all.

Hawkeye looked at the cuffs about her wrists. She had been sitting there for a few hours, until the series of questions were repeating itself for the third time. Like what she did since day one, she kept her lips tight.

There was nothing she had not seen before. Besides, she was one of the officers who made the latest revision on the military's interrogation SOP.

Hawkeye made eye contact with one of her interrogators sitting opposite to her. A slight curve with the corner of her lips irked the latter.

"Give it up already, General," The man with a fresh face said. "We know that you have sabotaged the radio to retaliate General Hood."

Ignore them, she told herself.

"Junior, please give the general a break," The senior interrogator said. "General Hawkeye, think about your unborn child. You wouldn't want to give birth at this place, would you?"

Hawkeye's expression remained steel. 

The senior interrogator stood up and walked to the opposite end of the table. His eyes caught the small curve on Hawkeye's stomach, barely hidden under the loose inmate dress. "How far along are you? Fifteen weeks, sixteen maybe?"

She blinked her eyes. It did not matter what they said.

The senior interrogator continued, "I heard your previous pregnancies didn't go well. What was it again? That the CIC had made a deal with the devil?"

A rapid curl of her fingers tipped the senior interrogator off that he had struck a nerve. "So, do you think this time it will survive?"

Hawkeye sprang up from her seat, jostling both interrogators. 

"Sit down, General!" The junior interrogator shouted.

No, she would not. She had had enough.

They could do anything to her. They could even try to defame Mustang. But they did not get to say anything about her baby.

Black spots flooded her vision, eroded away the junior interrogator's face. Hawkeye slipped back to her seat, her eyes pinched shut, hands wrapped tightly about her stomach.

"General, you are not fooling anyone," The senior interrogator said.

His junior saw beads of sweat stood on Hawkeye's forehead. "Sir, I don't think she's playing a trick."

The senior interrogator knelt down and found a face contorted with agony. "General? General?" He heard nothing coherent, just shortness of breath. "Call an ambulance!" He shouted to his junior.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the State Military's CIC is here to give his speech." The spokesperson stepped down from the podium.

White light flashed upon the stage as Mustang stepped up. "People of Amestris, more than a month ago, we were attacked from the South by Aerugans. To counter the attack, which was unprecedentedly organized and dominated with speed, the Fourth Division was deployed to engage the Aerugan main force, with Second BCT and the Eastern theater as support. The commander of this operation was Major General Riza Hawkeye."

Mustang took a deep breath. "What we..." He shook his head. "What I did not know... that time, General Hawkeye was nine weeks pregnant."

As the ruckus came from the floor, Mustang continued, "Despite so, she still went to the front line and fought valiantly. Without her division stalling the enemy, Central would have fallen to Aerugan's hands within three days."

"It was unfortunate that most of the Fourth Division had sacrificed themselves defending our country. As the CIC, I am infuriated and disgusted by the traitors who had sold us to the Aerugans. While I can guarantee General Hawkeye is not one of them, I respect the authority that the task force is bestowed and trust that our judicial system will clear her name."

"However, I would like to implore to the task force to let me see my wife. In her sixteen weeks of pregnancy, I have failed to be by her side, to support her as a husband. I’m standing here now, asking… appealing. Please do not rob me the right to fulfill my duty as a father. Thank you!"

Mustang was escorted out as the journalists pushed forward to the stage.

"Superb performance as always." Curtiss joined Mustang.

"It's not a show, Curtiss." Mustang narrowed his eyes. "I meant every word."

"Of course, it won't appeal to the public if it didn't come from sincerity."

"Commander!" Falman squeezed himself through the crowd. "You have to get to the hospital, now!"

Mustang and his men barged into the hospital. The striking blue uniforms deterred anyone else from getting near.

The route to the ward was unusually long, alluring various worst case scenarios in Mustang’s head.

Was it mental stress? Had the task force begun to resort to physical torture? He would find out what they did and swore to return the favor.

Mustang saw two black scouts standing by a door. That should be it.

"Commander Mustang." A man in civilian clothing stepped up to Mustang. "Major Olsen, Military Police."

Mustang grabbed Olsen's collars and roared, "What did you do to my wife?"

Falman squeezed Mustang's arm. "Sir, don't," he murmured.

Olsen glanced to Falman. "You should listen to the first lieutenant, Commander. Laying your hands on an investigative officer could bring you serious charges."

Mustang bared his teeth, then pushed Olsen away.

Olsen adjusted his coat. "I won't go in there if I were you."

Mustang stopped at the door.

"The doctor is still examining her. It will take some time."

A budge on the door pushed Mustang back a few steps. A man in lab coat looked at Mustang, then to Olsen.

"How is she doing, doctor?" Olsen walked up.

The doctor frowned. "Her blood pressure was soaring high. I have ruled out preeclampsia, but I strongly advised you not to stress the patient any further." He then turned to Mustang, noticed the four stars on the Commander's shoulders. "Commander Mustang? Sorry to ask the obvious, are you the husband of Riza Hawkeye?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Do you know when her last prenatal visit was?"

Mustang opened his mouth and blinked, realized that he did not even know if Hawkeye had one.

"She didn't have any!" A man ran to them. He too wore a blue uniform. He turned to Mustang. "Sorry, I tried to come as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Huskie. Appreciated," For once, Mustang was relieved to find Huskie around.

"Did I hear you right?"

Huskie turned to the doctor.

"She's at sixteen weeks! What the hell are you military doing to your pregnant soldier? That is not right!" The doctor exclaimed.

"It's a bit complicated, Doctor..."

"Vaughan."

"Doctor Vaughan, I'm Major General Riza Hawkeye's physician, Colonel Kevin Huskie." He passed Vaughan some paperwork. "Her last examination record. I believe this hospital has kept a record of her medical history."

"Yes." Vaughan scanned through the paperwork that Huskie gave him. He murmured, "What concerns me is that she had had four miscarriages before, which means—"

"A high-risk. Yes, I know." Huskie said softly.

"Doctors?" Mustang called.

Huskie and Vaughan turned around, realizing they were whispering to each other.

"Sorry, Commander." Vaughan stepped forward to Mustang. "Your wife and the baby are fine. The high blood pressure seems to be temporary. Since she has not had any prenatal visit before, I will need to keep her here for a few days and perform a thorough examination."

"Just do whatever is needed, doctor. Can I see her?" Mustang asked.

Vaughan turned his head to Olsen. "Well?"

Olsen felt an immense pressure coming at him as he was looking at three pairs of eyes. "Just you though," Olsen told Mustang, who had already pushed the door before Olsen could finish.

There were six beds in the ward. Mustang's eyes swept left then right, where a military police was standing guard.

He approached the bed, noticed Hawkeye was lying on her side.

The bed was spacious, but she had only occupied the half right of the bed.

Mustang later found out why.

Hawkeye's left wrist was chained to the bed rail with a pair of handcuffs.

Mustang touched it, noticed how red her wrist was. Her free wrist too had a similar mark. "Is this even necessary?" Mustang looked at the guard. He realized his grumble had fallen on deaf ears.

Mustang opened his mouth again, but snorted out a breath instead. That guard was in luck, because Mustang did not want to make a scene in the recovery room.

He took a chair by the bed, and sat down. Leaning his torso forward, he swept away a lock of her hair that rested on her cheek, and guided it to behind her ear. A contented smile escaped his face. He could really sit there and stare at her for eternity. If only they were in more comfortable place than a hospital ward.

Mustang saw a short flutter to Hawkeye's eyelids before she oriented her eyes to his. "Commander?"

Mustang eye's softened. "How do you feel?"

His question reminded her. "The baby! The baby!” Her eyes quivered with fear.

"Hey, hey... shhh..." Mustang cupped his hand on her cheek. "It's okay. The baby's okay."

Hawkeye did not hear him, but had pushed herself up, prompting Mustang to jump off his seat and grab Hawkeye's left arm.

Hawkeye pulled down the blanket, and rubbed her palm on her lower abdomen. She then let out a breath. 

It was there. It was still there.

Mustang stood the pillow up with the other hand before Hawkeye rested her back on it.

Looked up, she finally noticed him. All she did was chuckling at the stunned face. "I scared you, didn't I?"

"Are you... okay now?" Mustang did not know how he should respond.

"I'm fine." Hawkeye smiled. "Sit down," she urged.

Mustang just dropped his hips on the chair like a stone.

"Can you sit closer?" Hawkeye asked.

Mustang pulled the chair forward, and resumed to sit in an upright posture.

Hawkeye ignored the rigidity on her husband composure. "Your hand."

He handed his paw.

"Your left hand."

He switched as if he was Hayate.

An abrupt yank of his hand tipped his torso forward. He gasped. Eyes widened at the firmness under his palm.

"Can you feel it?" Her small hand on his larger hand. His larger hand on the small mound of her tummy.

Mustang blinked his eyes. Honestly, he was not quite sure what he was looking for.

Hawkeye decided to help him. Before that, she had to ask for someone's cooperation. "Baby, do you want to say hi to your father?"

Mustang knitted his brows. "Maybe it's too early—"

Hawkeye shushed her husband. "You have to be patient." She had made him a promise to introduce their baby to him. She was going to keep it.

Mustang sighed. He really did not want to upset his wife. While he could not feel any movement, his wife's stomach had noticeably grown larger since he last saw her. "You told me you were on the pill."

Hawkeye felt the bigger palm pressed harder against her abdomen. "I was." 

"Yet, you conceived."

Hawkeye did not like how the conversation was leading. "Roy, if you are suggesting to give up this baby—" She stopped, feeling something dripped onto her left arm. She turned to her husband, who had lowered his head.

"No, Hawkeye," Mustang muttered. "I know what I have told you about the Eye. But, that doesn't matter anymore. This new life inside you... I want to be its father."

A gasp escaped his throat. He lifted up his head. It was fleeting and very subtle, but he felt it.

"I guess the baby has just accepted you." Hawkeye smiled. Their little miracle had said 'yes'.

And four months ago, Mustang did not even know that he would make that child. "It was that night, wasn't it? When it was conceived."

"It could be the morning," she said.

"Right, it was very intense." Mustang leered proudly.

Hawkeye listened quietly as Mustang rubbed her stomach. It was not big, but quite prominent if one paid attention to it. Most of all, "how did you manage to hide it under that uniform?"

Hawkeye sighed. "I don't know. It barely shown a few weeks ago." She flinched and covered her mouth.

Mustang took his hand off and grabbed Hawkeye’s arm. "You okay?"

Hawkeye could not speak. With her eyes shut, she slowly lowered her hand and leaned her head back.

Mustang poured her some water, and she took a sip.

"I thought the nausea should be gone by second trimester." Mustang set the cup on a tray.

"Tell me about it." Hawkeye forced a smile. She cast her eyes onto her stomach, frowning.

"Something else bothers you?"

Two weeks. Two weeks she had been in captive. She knew the law allowed up to three months holding her in custody without trial. "If I'm convicted—"

"No, you are not going to deliver the baby in the prison!" Mustang asserted. "I won't allow that!"

Hawkeye's eyes were filled with sorrow. "Roy—"

Mustang bent over her and pressed his lips on hers. "Rest." He straightened his back. "Next time you see me, I'll be taking you home, both of you."

"Your Honor, what the task force did was an act of negligence!" Breda pointed his finger to the panel next to his."

"Your Honor!" The opposition stood up. "It was a standard interrogation technique."

"Technique? It was an abuse of power." Breda cried out. "They threatened my client."

"That is an accusation without basis, Your Honor!"

The gavel struck a few times. "Major Breda, do you have any evidence?" The judge asked.

"No, but I would like to request for a witness to be present to the Court."

"Granted."

A man entered the witness stand.

Breda turned to the witness. "Sergeant Sawyer, can you tell us who you are and how you are related to this case?"

"I'm Sergeant Michael Sawyer, the State Military Police Corp. I'm a senior investigator in the special task force. My duty is to investigate and capture the people who had colluded with the Aerugan."

"Was Major General Riza Hawkeye one of your suspects?"

"Yes."

"Motive?"

"Objection, Your Honor!" The defense attorney said. "The question is not related to the case."

"It is related, in his answer," Breda said.

"Overruled. Witness please answer the question," the judge said.

"Major General Riza Hawkeye was one of the two survivals from Fourth Division. And, she is the granddaughter of the notorious terrorist, formerly known as General Grumman."

"I see," Breda said. "How many days had you hold General Hawkeye in custody?"

"About two weeks."

"What was the routine like? Did you interrogate her everyday?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"We have orders to complete the investigation as soon as possible."

"To complete the investigation as soon as possible..." Breda repeated. "Your Honor, please take a look on the investigation time log."

The judge put on his reading glass and flipped through a document.

"Morning, afternoon, evening, and night. The interrogation took place almost every day with the same schedule. Each session took hours before it ends." Breda then turned to the sergeant. "Sergeant Sawyer, are you aware that General Hawkeye is pregnant?"

The sergeant gulped. "Yes."

"Even so, you had never thought of such stringent routine might cause her harm?"

"Objection, Your Honor!" The defense attorney said. "The prosecutor is speculating."

"Your Honor, this is not a speculation," Breda said

"Overruled!" The judge said. "Major Breda, you have to get to the point soon."

"Yes, Your Honor." Breda turned to the witness again.

The sergeant twitched his brow. "No. She was given enough rest time in between."

"Can you please tell us what was the question that you asked her before she was sent to the hospital?"

"I asked if she sabotaged the radio tower."

"Sergeant, that was your junior's question. I'm asking what _you_ have asked her."

The Sergeant stared at Breda. He could not speak.

"You couldn't answer," Breda said. "Let me tell you what you've said. 'General Hawkeye, think about your unborn child. You wouldn't want to give birth at this place, do you?'

The sergeant widened his eyes.

"'How far along are you? Fifteen weeks, sixteen maybe?'" Breda continued.

"Objection, Your Honor!" The defense attorney said.

Breda droned on. "'I heard your previous pregnancies didn't go well. What was it again? That the CIC had made a deal with the devil?'"

"Objection, Your Honor!"

"'So, do you think this time it will survive?'"

"Objection, Your Honor!"

"Did you or did you not ask those questions, Sergeant?" Breda asked, raised his voice.

"Overruled!" The judge said. "Witness must answer the question."

The sergeant looked aghast.

Mustang took Hawkeye's hand, secured it firmly in a tight lock. Shielding her, Mustang trudged forward as they went out through the main entrance.

The people poured onto them, showering the couple with blinding flashlights and questions.

Mustang wrapped his arm across Hawkeye's back, pulling her to himself. She, on the other hand, tightened her arms over her abdomen as she followed Mustang closely.

Mustang felt a strong opposite force against his direction. Even with the guards pushing against the crowd, he had barely moved forward.

He glanced to his left. Hawkeye tried to shun herself from the intense bursts of light, her elbow arched to fend off any obstacle that came at her abdomen.

The crowd continued to invade the little space the couple had. Mustang gritted his teeth. It was up to him to teach those people to behave.

A burst of flame dispelled the crowd. As everyone was taken aback by the sudden firework, Mustang swept Hawkeye's feet off the ground and dashed toward the backseat of an awaiting car.

Doors slammed shut. The car sped away, leaving behind disappointed people.

"Are you all right?" Mustang turned to his right and saw a double nod from his wife. "I thought I said backdoor!" Mustang cried out to the front passenger.

Falman twisted to his back. "Sir, the journalists had already blocked all possible exits before we arrived. You should see the camps they had set up. Even ambulance couldn't get through them."

"Please tell me there aren't any journalist at my doorstep." Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Your residence had been fortified with a company of troops, Commander. All armed to the teeth."

"Good." Mustang leaned back. "These people are double-edged swords. We'll be in trouble if we don't handle well."

The other nickname for the journalists was Mad Dogs, as they had long stationed at Mustang's estate. The flanks of soldiers lining up at each side of the road did become a deterrent as none of the journalists dared to breach the defense. The only annoyance Mustang had was the flashlight, which did not cease until the car had driven onto the front lawn.

Mustang led Hawkeye into the mansion. Black Hayate was most eager to welcome his owner as he bounced around her.

"Stay, Black Hayate." Hawkeye calmed her dog.

"He only listens to you." Mustang sighed.

"Maybe you should stop spoiling him."

"Welcome home, sir, ma'am." Valerie came out from the common room. "Oh, ma'am!" She covered her mouth with both hands, eyes drawn to the bulge under Hawkeye's shirt. Uncovered her mouth, she beamed. "Congratulations!"

Bliss exuded from Hawkeye's smile. "Thank you."

"Are you hungry?" Valerie blurted out. "I can cook anything you like. No, wait. I'm going to cook now." Valerie hurried away.

That left two of them. And a dog.

"So?" Mustang looked at Hawkeye.

"Are you sure you don't have to leave?" Hawkeye arched her brow.

"Today, I'm all yours." Mustang opened his arms. "Even the President cannot take me away from you."

"Good." Hawkeye walked towards the common room. "I could use a pillow."

Mustang watched the peaceful face on his lap. Facing outward and lying on her side, Hawkeye was slumbering.

Mustang frowned, wondering how much sleep Hawkeye had been deprived when she was in custody. His eyes then traced to her stomach. His hand caressed it as if to appeal to his child to forgive him.

"Sir?"

"Sorry, Valerie." Mustang kept his eyes on his sleeping beauty. "Lunch has to be later. She seems pretty worn out."

Valerie walked to the table in front of the couple, and put down a cup. "When she wakes up...."

A jolt recaptured Mustang's attention.

One moment he saw Hawkeye have her hand over her mouth. The next she was gone.

So the baby did not like the tea, Mustang thought. Wondering how his wife was doing, he went to the bathroom.

He found her hugging the toilet bowl. The sound of her regurgitating wrenched his heart.

"Do you want me to get your anti-nausea drug?" Mustang asked as he heard the flushing.

Hawkeye stood up and wobbled to the sink to rinse her mouth. "It doesn't work anymore," she heaved out.

"Well, what about lunch?" Mustang smiled. "You haven't eaten anything since morning."

Hawkeye took a deep breath. "I do miss Valerie's cooking."

Mustang raised his brows in delight. At least, she had kept her appetite.

But it turned out that he had been misguided.

One bite was all it took to send her to the toilet again.

Perhaps it was the lasagna. No, the stew too offended the baby. And, not even something as bland as salad passed its high standard.

The result? An exhausted mother curling in bed, with only water to fill her gut.

The worried father went to her side, keeping watch until she woke up in the middle of the night... with a groaning stomach.

The helpless parents stared at it, as if doing so could expose a hidden clue.

"There are still a lot we haven't tried."

Mustang's optimism always impressed Hawkeye.

Of course he was going to spoil the child even before it was born. Look at what he did to Black Hayate!

But what else could he do? Their child had been holding Hawkeye's gut hostage.

The parents returned to the kitchen, and the quest for ultimate treasure began.

As the Academy taught, the best strategy was sometimes the simplest.

In just a few minutes, supper was served!

Hawkeye blinked her eyes at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich before her. Her lips pressed together. Her eyes doubted Mustang.

He had better be sure about it. Because, she really hated to run for the toilet again.

Mustang, on the other hand, seemed to have gone all in, confidence as high as his lifted brows, encouraging her to test his strategy.

Hawkeye had to give utmost respect to the lab rats. Her stomach concurred with a thundering groan.

She expanded her lungs before taking the first bite, slowly chewing it. Once the bolus passed through her esophagus and entered the stomach, Mustang and Hawkeye waited with their breaths held.

One second, two seconds, three seconds...

The gavel struck—it was sold!

There was no battle in Mustang's lifetime that was as triumphant as to have fed his nauseated wife. When the whole loaf of bread had been safely delivered to the legendary 'no-go' zone, he felt like he had conquered the world.

The satisfied mother beamed her approval to Mustang, arms cuddled her belly. The strong flutters in her womb too agreed, that Mustang would be a great father.

_Thank you!_

_Daddy!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being the woman behind the successful man is not something to be envied.
> 
> Roy might have garnered tremendous power in his hand, but that very power prevents him from protecting the one closest to him. In fact, he has to put those around him in danger.
> 
> From war to jail, Riza was on her own. Without Roy by her side, she had to protect herself and the baby at the same time.
> 
> Only someone with the heart of lion can survive.


	15. Liability

"The engineering corp has sorted out technologies that are ready for commercialization," Falman reported. "Some of them are not appealing to the market though."

"Discuss joint venture and possible maintenance service that we could offer." The newspaper stood vertically on Mustang's desk, covering Mustang's head and upper torso. "Curtiss—"

"I'll negotiate with them and fetch a good price." Curtiss' eyes fixed on the headline in Mustang's hands. "'Mother of the State'? It seems like Norsk's foul-crying is squeezed to a corner again."

"A corner under Major General Hawkeye, to be exact." Falman pointed his index finger up.

"At least he gets to keep a space on the front cover," Curtiss said.

"By the way, Commander... I received phone calls from public relations asking when you and General Hawkeye are available for an interview."

Mustang lowered the newspaper on the desk, a brow arched. "Haven't I told you to decline all? I won't accept any request from people who tried to trespass my property."

"It's our public relations department, sir."

"They still have to wait." Mustang pulled the newspaper up again.

"A timeline, sir."

"Easy!" Mustang turned the page. "Tell them. Check again after six months."

Falman gaped. Curtiss snickered.

"Unless they want me to answer the general's question, they will have to wait." It was a line that Mustang swore to defend. 

"How's General Hawkeye doing, Commander?" Curtiss asked. "I heard that she's still suffering from morning sickness."

The top edge of the newspaper lowered to reveal Mustang's glare at Falman.

"It's not me!" Falman waved his hands.

Damn Havoc! He sure had a big mouth. Mustang raised up the newspaper. "Much better. Thank you for your concern."

"Then the time is with us." Curtiss said.

Mustang folded the newspaper and laid it on his table. "What do you have in mind?"

"Next year's election." Curtiss’ eyes cast down, leading Mustang to look at the frontpage, where his wife’s photo was.

"No!" Mustang stressed his voice.

"Commander, your rating among the military top brass is of record low. You need someone influential to campaign for you."

"I agree." Mustang intertwined his fingers. "We should look for someone else."

"Let's face it, sir. She is the only one who can help you. If you are concerned with her health, we can—"

"That is enough." Mustang raised his hand. "My decision is final."

The woman with braided blond hair brought a cup of water to a man confined to his wheelchair.

Instead reaching it with his mouth, he tumbled the cup onto the floor.

"How long? How long before the souls of your mother and siblings could rest in peace?" The raw wrinkled skins, stretching from head to toe, still grilled him.

"Please, they are good people." The woman knelt before him.

"Good? Were your mother and siblings not? Your mother was burnt alive. Your siblings were shot to death. Until now, I can still feel his flame through this skin." He hovered his hands over his face.

"They had paid their due, Father. Why can't we forgive them?"

"A few fetuses were hardly lives. And she is growing one now?" He shouted. "Everyone out there is hailing her Mother of the State, like Ishval had never existed!" He held out his hands to bring her face closer. "You were adopted. But, I have cherished you as my own, have I not?"

Tears rolled and fell from her eyes. She lowered her head. "Yes... yes..."

"My days are short. Please end my misery."

She threw herself to his feet. "What should I do? What should I do?"

"Mister and Misses Ross..." Hawkeye presented a leather case with the size of a palm.

The man frowned, pulling his wife to himself as she sobbed in despair. He looked up again, to the blond woman sitting opposite to them.

"This should have been given to you at the award ceremony tomorrow, but I heard that you have declined the invitation..."

"Thank you, general." The man received the case and closed it. He then turned his head to the right. He heaved out as he looked at the still face on the bed. "Maria, our daughter, she looked up to you."

Hawkeye knitted her brows, head lowered. "I have failed her."

"No, general. It's war." The man faced Hawkeye. "She did what she had to do. Saving your life is not just her duty, it's her instinct. I am proud as her father."

The father's resolve put Hawkeye to shame. Frowned, she said, "If there is anything that I can do for you..."

"We appreciate your offer, but the military has given everything we need."

"General..." Ross' mother wiped away her tears. "Thank you for coming. We know that it is not easy for you either."

Hawkeye smiled bitterly. "Major Ross is more than an aide. She is my friend. This is the least I could do for her."

Havoc leaned against the wall. Lips wiggled for an overdue nicotine.

As the door screeched opened, the major stepped forward, anticipating someone's presence.

Hawkeye closed the door behind, joined Havoc as they left the ward.

"Anywhere else you would like to go?" Havoc shoved his hands into the pockets.

"She's the last." Hawkeye's reply was brief as usual.

"We should get going then." Havoc snatched Hawkeye's arm and quickened his pace. "If the Commander knows that I sneaked you out, he'll kill me."

"Major."

Havoc continued to stride gallantly down the hallway.

"Major Havoc!"

Havoc stopped abruptly, slowly turned his head to find a tensed face. He looked at the arm in his hand. It had been tugged forward by his grip, yet still short of a few feet from him.

His eyes then traced to Hawkeye. His face turned pale.

Hawkeye was holding the bulk sitting on her pelvis as if it would fall out of her.

Smiling sheepishly, Havoc released his grip. "My bad."

"If he asks..." Hawkeye walked up to Havoc. "Tell him it was my idea." She walked away, at her own pace.

Havoc slouched his back. His focus to avert Mustang's fury had backfired, and kindled the wrath of The Hawk's Eye on him instead.

"She went out?" Mustang raised his brows.

"Major Havoc was with her." Valerie folded Mustang's trench coat over her forearm. "She said she would be back for dinner."

"Did she tell you where she was going?"

"No, sir."

And where would she be? Mustang wondered. While he did not forbid Hawkeye stepping out of the mansion, he preferred to have accompanied her. What if she had another close encounter with the media?

"Your bodyguards are with her. She should be fine."

Mustang smiled. "You are right. I'll be in the study. Let me know when she is back."

"Yes, sir."

Mustang proceeded to the room next to the common area. As soon as he was in the room, he headed straight to the rack and pulled a book. Turned around, he noticed a thin pile of papers lying neatly on the writing table.

He picked them up, recognized the State's emblem and the handwriting. The formal letters were written in great detail describing the characters and services of officers in the Fourth Division. The supposed receivers were the family members.

The letters were ready, missing only the signatures of the State Military Commander-in-Chief.

Mustang breathed out. Even when she was away from duty, Hawkeye was still helping him securing his position in the Military.

He pulled out the chair from the table, sat down, and scribbled on each letter. He then stacked them on top of the book he had chosen a while ago and exited the study, just in time to receive his returned wife.

"Commander."

Her presence shed the rock off Mustang's heart.

"Where have you been?" The boots sounded heavy as he moved forward. She needed to know the severity.

Hawkeye remained unfazed at Mustang’s scowl. "I was visiting Major Ross at the hospital and families of the officers killed in the war."

The anger in Mustang reduced to an audible sigh. "Next time, let me know so I can go with you, okay?"

"That won't be necessary." Hawkeye steered herself past Mustang.

For a moment, he did not think that he had heard her right. He set aside the book and letters in his hands, and followed her to the kitchen. "Excuse me?"

Hawkeye spun around. "I'm not your liability, remember?" She cut.

The scowling woman before Mustang was so ready to retaliate. Hawkeye might get angry at times, but she had never been so defensive before, at least not to him.

Mustang took Hawkeye's clenched fist, forcefully pried it open. Like a spell, it calmed her down. "Rough day?"

Hawkeye looked away.

Mustang glanced to the table, saw Valerie served the last dish. "Sir, ma'am, dinner's ready." And the helper resumed to clean the stove.

Mustang guided his wife to the dining table, pulled a chair out, waited for her to sit down. He then sat beside her.

Their dinner was a silent one. Mustang picked up a cup in his hand. "Do you want to join me tomorrow, to the award ceremony?" He sipped on the water.

A small piece of meat entered her mouth. "I'm suspended, sir."

He did not expect the ball to bounce back to him that quickly. "You can be my plus-one for the night ball. It's been a while since we had a dance together."

"You will have to attend it alone. The election is coming soon. You can't afford to let someone else steal your spotlight." Even though she had quitted being his assistant, she still acted like one.

The cup was sat loudly on the table. "You are not someone else, Hawkeye."

She stared at him—a silent note that she felt his anger.

"Well," Mustang smiled, trying to clear the stiff air. "If you do steal the spotlight, you shall be the next CIC." He grinned.

"That is not funny, Commander." Hawkeye resumed to her meal. The corner of her eye caught Mustang's head wobbling. She dropped the utensil in her hands and supported his chin, just in time before his face fell on his dining plate.

Hawkeye stood up, and rested his cheek against her stomach. "Commander! Commander!" She shouted, a hand shook his shoulder. He was still breathing, but had lost consciousness.

"Why are you still standing?"

Hawkeye looked up.

Valerie was facing them, a pistol in her hand.

Hawkeye did not dare to move. "Help! Someone!" 

"They are all sedated, ma'am." Valerie stepped closer to the dining table. "Including Hayate. And you should be too."

Hawkeye turned to the man in her arms. "I have developed resistance to sedative."

"In that case..." Valerie pointed the gun at Mustang's head. "You’ll have to watch him die."

Spark. Pitch black. Gunshots. Silence.

He blinked at the ceiling. Blurred vision refocused.

"It's about time!" A blond-haired grinned at him.

"Major Havoc!" Mustang sprang up from the bed. The room swirled.

A laughter flooded Mustang's ears. Back bent forward, he pressed both hands on his head, trying in vain to stabilize his vision.

"What's wrong, Commander? The world is spinning?"

Mustang glared at Havoc. "Do you have nothing else to do?" His eyes widened. Hawkeye!

"Look to your left, sir."

His eyes recognized the face, which the eyes were shut. Her head bobbed lightly every now and then, unperturbed by the ruckus happened a while ago.

He frowned at the long cut from the cuff and all the way up along her left sleeve. The red stain dyed the upper sleeve, near where the bandage was.

"It only grazed her. Nothing serious." Havoc turned his head to the woman seated beside Mustang. "I wanted to send her home, but she insisted to wait until you are awake."

"Did you get anything from Valerie?" Mustang turned to Havoc.

"Her real name is Elina, an adopted child by an Ishvalan family. All except the father survived the war."

"It finally came." Mustang murmured. "There was no escape from an old debt." He snorted. "Anything else?"

The pause made Mustang's brow raised. "Out with it already."

"The lab found the chamomile tea in your kitchen had traces of pennyroyal oil.”

Mustang's eyes widened. “Pennyroyal oil?” 

“It’s a poisonous drug to abort a pregnancy. Elina seemed to have used it to dose the general.”

That means...

“Sir, I think she is responsible for General Hawkeye's previous miscarriages.”

"She almost killed her!" He growled. All those years almost made him believe it was a curse. 

"The last one was a miscalculation."

That reminded him the tea Elina served to Hawkeye when she just came home. “That was not her last.” He clenched his fists.

“What do you mean?”

“When Hawkeye came home a few weeks ago, Elina made her the same tea.”

“What? We have to get her a doctor—”

“It’s okay.” Mustang turned to the woman who was fast asleep. “She did not drink it. The smell seemed to have nauseated her. We thought she was only having very bad morning sickness.”

"Wait..." Havoc looked at Mustang. "You asked about Elina awhile ago. You were unconscious, right? How do you know it was her?"

Mustang gazed at the bulge on Hawkeye's abdomen. "A voice woke me, for a short while."

_ Father! Wake up! _

_ A voice belonged to a child. He saw a gun, and he snapped. _

"The general woke you?"

"Who knows?" Mustang closed his eyes and pouted. "Everything was so fuzzy. I could be dreaming."

Was he?

Havoc looked askance. "That sounds just like you, Commander."

"Since you are free..." Mustang gnawed his teeth, facing Havoc. "Why don't you get me a discharge paper, major?" Flame burned in his eyes.

"Right away, sir." Havoc rushed out.

Mustang took a deep breath, then turned to his wife. He flipped the blanket, and lowered his feet to the floor. Picked up the blanket on the bed, he draped over her shoulders. Even for just a little while, he wanted her to sleep.

His smile suddenly faded. He stood up and stared at her with a pair of cold eyes.

Since when? Since when he cared so much about her?

_ If they complied to their initial motive, they should not have crossed the line. Marrying Grumman's granddaughter was a political gain, and power was his devotion. _

_ But to stand before the king-sized bed—with a pairing silver ring on his finger—was a huge deviation from his goal. _

_ The fact that he ran away to the North for two years made the situation even more awkward. It did not feel right. _

_ "General..." _

_ He gulped. She still called him 'General'. Sure, there was no hurry to dive right into being happily married couple. "Yes, lieutenant!" He faced her, eyes slowly drifted away. That was the first time he could not look at her in the eyes. _

_ "I just want to tell you that nothing has changed." _

_ He let out a breath. Wait... What? "What do you mean, lieutenant?" His eyes found her eventually. The furrow on her face grew. _

_ "I don't deny that I have feelings for you, sir." She lowered her head. "But I do not intend to let it grow." _

_ He took a deep breath and exhaled again. "I'm sorry, Hawkeye. I let my greed hijack your life." _

_ Hawkeye shook her head. "I volunteered. Perhaps a part of me wants it to be true." Her smile was genuine. _

_ "I'm not sure if I am capable of giving you what you want." His brows knitted. "After all that I have taken." _

_ "You have misunderstood me, sir." She turned around, walked to the dresser, and her fingers glided on the surface. "I am not asking anything in return. What I want I will attain it myself. You just need to focus on your goal." _

_ "That's it, huh?" Smirking, he tucked a hand into his side pocket. "No equivalent exchange? It won't be fair to you." _

_ She turned to face him again. "Just take what you need, general. I will not be your liability unless you make it. Just like the old days." _

_ Business as usual? After everything? He gritted his teeth. Why did she have to tempt him by treading a fine line? "Be careful, lieutenant." He faked a smile. "One day, you will regret that you have offered yourself to a monster." He pleaded with her to hold back, because he could not protect her. _

_...from himself. _

_ "It seems like you have forgotten, sir." Her eyes pierced his. "I made that monster." _

_ His eyes widened. _

_ "He is my liability." _

_ He walked up to her. "It's contradicting, don't you think? You do not want to be my liability, yet you make me yours." He leaned over her, forced her back against the wall, breathed out to her ear. "I just want to know... How far would you bear with me?" _

_ She was a moth. He was the flame. Could a moth not fly to the flame? _

_ He glanced to her still face. "Push me away, Hawkeye." He murmured, hands pulling up her skirt, revealing her underwear. "Else, I will burn you again." _

_ She clenched her fists. Jaws tightened. The way he caressed her thigh with his hand, and how he had rubbed his fingers below her—it was humiliating. _

_ She trembled silently as he unclasped her hair clip. Her eyes gazed at the monster she was about to feed. _

_ "As you wish..." He threw her to the bed. He would fulfill his duty as a husband, and celebrate their marriage with her—without liability. _

_ He climbed onto her and fumbled with her clothes. One after the other they discarded onto the floor, until she was bare and vulnerable. _

_ "You gave me power." He showed himself to her. With her legs spread, he pressed her thighs onto her chest and placed himself between them. His eyes locked with hers. "But not enough." _

_ She gasped at the sudden knock on her intimate barrier. _

_ "I need an heir." _

_ Eyes widened and head thrown back, she screamed. _

_ He had made his grand entrance. _

_ "Shh..." The corner of his lips curved at the broken seal. He held there, savoring the tight richness within. The reserved land consecrated for him was brutally tarnished, all but downpayment to what she did to him, for making him a monster. _

_ Watching the tears that streamed from her helpless eyes, he showed a bystander gaze. Would you sympathize with the moth that went after fire? _

_ She seemed to understand. The involuntary squirm stopped. _

_ He brought her wrists over her head, pinned them onto the bed with one hand. "Don't hate me so much, okay?" Even though they were just a make-believe couple, he sealed her lips with his kiss. It was not a sign of love, but a proclamation that he owned her. _

_ She yelped at a quick jerk. Her arched back forced down by a crushing grip on her ribs. _

_ Bathed in the crimson drawn from her at each rhythmic thrust, he slowly devoured her from within. He was no longer the man he had disguised himself, but the monster that violated her—his bride, the one who was responsible for his transformation—on their marriage bed. _

_ She gave in to a grotesque consummation—infested with torture and hatred. As he rose to be the most powerful man of the State, many would try to attack him. They would never get him through her, because she was not his liability, only a tool to reach his goal.  _

_ Despite the pain, she reached out to him. She embraced his head to her chest. He cried himself to sleep. To her alone, he showed his weaknesses. _

_ Instead of a husband who loved, cherished, and protected his wife, he chose to hide behind that monster. Every time he debauched her, he reinforced her misguided obsession of not to be his liability. That perversion had been his way to detach himself from her and safeguard his sanity against the threat of losing her. _

He wondered what her version was, not that he suspected it would be anywhere far from his.

Looking at the round bump, Mustang pressed his palm on it. 

He leered. 

After years of living in disappointment, that life in Hawkeye's womb was the heir he had been waiting for, which in turn reignited all of his long forgotten desires.

The Gate of Truth can go to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think anyone who survived Ishval could be normal again.
> 
> Dark Roy is really an interesting study subject.


	16. Dance with Me

Mustang put on his ceremonial uniform, facing the mirror. His eyes veered to his wife as she came between and blocked his view.

He instinctively lowered his arms to his sides, watching her clasp the buttons over his chest.

She was within reach. Her silence forbade him.

Keeping his eyes on her vacant face, he waited for her to face him.

She did not. He knew why.

Her hands snapped the buttons together and moved to the next below. As always, she would make sure her husband shone among the crowd.

When he clasped her hands on his chest, the gloom on her face turned into a subtle alert. Still, she refused to meet his eyes. "You are going to be late."

Like he cared. "Look at me."

She obeyed.

"You're upset." He narrowed his eyes on her.

She cast her eyes down again. "I should be glad that it wasn't a curse. But, it doesn't lessen our guilt."

Their children died because of the innocent lives they took in the past.

Mustang leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder. His arms wrapped about her waist. Days when he could reach his hand easily to the other wrist had long gone. On the contrary, the pressure that pressed against his abdomen had dilated the circumference of his arms around her, forcing him to barely touching his fingers instead. He imagined, in future months to come, his arms would have to give way to the bundle between them, until the day it was delivered.

The trapped arms on his chest relaxed, as well as her body in his embrace.

He always knew how to release her from stress.

"Tonight's ball... I'm taking you with me." He felt her chest expanded. "I don't take 'no' as an answer."

Mustang released his wife and picked up a peaked cap on the dresser. He did not bid her goodbye, nor did he turned his eyes to her for one last glance. It was a precaution to prevent him from giving in to those amber eyes.

The string ensemble filled the air with lively classical. Black tuxedo, embellished with colorful night gowns, enthralled the evening under warm chandeliers.

Men and women chattered in groups, glasses in hands. They were dignitaries and military officials, joined by important members of the Assembly. The function was formal. The guests were at home.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Major General!" A woman said, holding a pen and a notepad.

"Thank you." Dunley smiled, as the flashlight blinked on him.

"How does it feel to be the youngest general in history?" The woman asked.

"Honored. At the same time... surreal."

"Many think that the Second BCT's recapturing of South City was the pivot of defeating Aerugans. What do you think?"

"The Second BCT is a rapid response unit that is designed for swift attack. We might have dealt a heavy blow to the enemy troops, but the victory was achieved by good coordination with the Eastern, Southern, and Western Theaters."

"Young and humble. Is there anyone you would like to thank?"

Dunley paused, eyes wandered to the crowd.

"That person is among us?"

"No," Dunley replied. "She—"

Gasps and awe from the crowd pointed everyone's attention to the grand entrance.

Two pairs of feet stepped in.

The first belonged to a man with his raven hair slicked back. Medals overlaid one another on his left chest, congested the little space on the tuxedo. His left arm folded, elbow slightly protruded to his side to allow a hand perched on the fold—the inner side of his elbow. He stood tall and confidently, face charming as a prince.

The man turned his head to his left—his companion in the blushing pink gown. Her sleeves curtained along the length of her upper arms. A ribbon marked the border between her chest and her protruding abdomen, tied to a bow at the side. The dress draped loosely from that line, covering her feet with pleats. White pearls chained together, adorned her exposed neck and shoulders, paired to the earrings on her lobes.

She too turned her head to face the man by her side. Her curled hair braided together to make a garden of golden roses adorning her occipital.

His smile doted her face. Her eyes adored his.

Even as the bright white lights blinked at them, they were lost in each other's gaze.

"If their union is just politics..." Curtiss watched the couple from afar, a glass of golden liquid at the pinch of his fingers. "I'll be damned."

Falman's eyes too were captivated. "Now you don't have to worry about his rating." Tomorrow's headline with a full-page photo of the couple weaved in his head.

"You got me!" Curtiss grinned. "This is better than shouting slogans on stage. I mean, look at them! Who wouldn’t want to be Roy and Riza?"

True. The King and Queen of Amestris—not exactly, but close enough. At least, that made a good title for a romance novel.

As Falman thought about it, he wondered if Mustang had that calculated too.

On the other hand, Mustang had politely declined the interview and led Hawkeye to the hall.

"Still think you are my liability?" Mustang murmured.

Hawkeye blinked her eyes then turned her head to her husband. She could never forget how much hard work it took Mustang to rise to the top. But with Grumman's betrayal, she almost cost him everything, because he refused to divorce her.

Her heart bloomed. It was for her that he brought her to the ball, so to convince her that she could stand by his side and not be ashamed.

_ Once again. _

Liveliness gave way. The glide of a bow on a string made a note, which resonated with the joining ensemble. The repeated harmony fell into a three four rhythm—mellow and warm.

Mustang lowered himself to one knee, right hand took hers. After planted a kiss on the back of her back, he rose again, still holding her hand, guiding it up.

He stood beside her. Face opposite to each other. Palm to palm—their hands in oath. Two steps forward, two steps backward—their feet swayed along with the tempo.

Their eyes fit no one else, except the person beside. As more couples joined their courtship, their gazes only belonged to each other.

They turned in circles. His free arm rested above his hip. She picked her dress. It waved as they moved.

As they pulled away, the knot of their hands anchored them to each other. He swirled her in circles then guided her back to himself.

Her back against his chest. Arms crossed over her stomach. He bound her hands into his, leading her to a gentle swing.

She tilted her head to the right, meeting her husband's face. "You remember." Her smile was the glory of morning sunshine.

They pulled away again only to return to face each other.

"Our first dance?" He rested a hand on her waist. the other held hers loosely by their sides. "Why would I forget?"

Two pairs of feet strode gallantly as one. The angular momentum of their turn flared her dress.

They stopped abruptly at the center of the hall. Both her hands lured his jaw to her.

His hands found her waist. Her arms crossed behind his neck.

_ Rallentando _ —time slowed for an affectionate kiss.

She pressed her forehead against his. "Thank you."

His lip curled with glad and honor.

With the music came to an end, Mustang led Hawkeye away.

There came thundering claps. One of them was from the head of the State. "That was a splendid dance, I see."

"Mister President..." Mustang called as the older man approached. Behind the President were a group of men in black suits, standing guard in full alert.

The President glanced at the protruded abdomen. "I don't think I have congratulated you yet."

"Thank you." Mustang and Hawkeye's voices overlapped.

The President looked at Hawkeye and breathed in deeply. "You've made decisions which none of us could. Shame on the Assembly for not acknowledging your work."

"Sir, thank you." Her eyes were sad. "But the truth is... I'm glad that the Assembly didn't. Else, I couldn't face those who lost their lives for this country."

A squeeze on her hand brought her eyes to Mustang.

"Mister President, we think that it is best that way," Mustang said.

The President glanced to Mustang, sighed. "The State can sleep well, having you two as her protectors."

The couple smiled to each other.

"We've sworn our lives to that mission," Mustang said.

"I could guess as much." The President turned to Hawkeye. "If you don't mind, general, I would like to have a few words with the Commander."

Mustang looked over his shoulder, saw Thaw and his men ready to step in and take over.

"I'll be back," Mustang told his wife, letting go her hand.

As Mustang followed the older man, Thaw stepped up to Hawkeye.

"Ma'am..."

Hawkeye turned to the bodyguard.

"Please come with us."

She complied. "You came back."

"I was on a short assignment." Thaw faced squarely to where he headed. "My service is always first to you and the Commander."

"General Hawkeye?"

Thaw jumped forward.

"Sorry, I don't mean to startle you," The young man said.

Hawkeye stared at him. She almost forgot the purpose of the ball.

She had not changed at all...

Her eyes remained a puzzle which he could never solve. It was the same stare again! What did he do wrong?

"Just when I thought you are no longer a chickling..." Her voice was full with disdain. "Get out of my sight!"

Dunley widened his eyes. He knew she meant business. "But ma’am—"

"I'm no longer your superior, Major General Dunley."

Right. They were equal. Did that matter? He was just trying to show his appreciation. "Fine!" Dunley slapped his hands on the table, stood up. "You have a great evening, Major General Hawkeye!" Dunley stormed away.

Watching her younger peer's back, Hawkeye breathed out.

"What did I miss?"

Hawkeye turned her head and found Mustang sitting down beside her. "He said that he wanted to swear allegiance to us.” Her reply was cold.

Mustang smirked. "That boy is smart." He took off his coat and draped onto Hawkeye's shoulders.

"Too smart for his own good." Hawkeye stroked her belly.

"You are worried that he will become like me?" Mustang found Hawkeye's eyes narrowed. "Aren't you overreacting? Unless... you expect me to defect."

Like her grandfather.

"You won't." She looked at her husband. She clearly did not like his suggestion.

Mustang shrugged his shoulders at the solemn face. "I'm just saying."

Political consortium was a high-risk venture. Mustang should know better, especially when he learnt it from Grumman the hard way.

Hawkeye turned her eyes to the seat which Dunley had taken before. "He is still young. Even without our support, he will still be a full-fledged general."

Yes, Dunley did not need a shortcut. One day, he would surpass any leader in history by his own path.

Mustang saw the sharp stare. He had never seen his wife put so much faith in others beside him.

Leo Dunley... he better lived up to her expectations.

"Let's go." Mustang stood up. "It's getting late."

Sitting before the dresser, Hawkeye removed the earrings then the necklace. Her hand reached empty, and her spine chilled.

She saw her husband from the mirror. He was standing behind her, pouring a colorless liquid onto the cotton before wiping the back of her neck with it.

The black ink faded in. Array slowly spread between her shoulder blades. Some remained buried under the scar.

Mustang traced his fingers over the scar. He used to dread over the sight of it, because it reminded him of the damage he did.

"Roy..."

He heard her calling him. He had been careless, and she saw his guilt.

She stood up, but her shoulders were trapped in his arms.

"Don't. Move." Despite muffled by her back, the warning remained in effect.

He sucked on her neck, feeling her skin tingled as he brushed his lips on it. "I tried to wait, but you keep tempting me." He could really use a strong drink, and the woman in his arms was far more intoxicating.

He hated it, especially when Hughes was right.

His hand pulled down the zip on her back, and tasted her skin greedily.

"Roy, the baby..."

He grunted. "Stop being a mother for a while." He whispered into her ears, blowing out warm air. It had been too long since he felt her. "And pay attention to your husband." Hands slipped under her dress, he brushed her peaks, elicited a loud moan. Childbearing made her body very sensitive. Good thing that he had the guards outside their room dismissed.

"Roy..." With her dress slipped onto the floor, she returned to be the shy and timid girl who uncovered her back to him.

His eyes admired the reflection of his greatest masterpiece. Her swollen breasts and stomach had made her more appealing, and it amazed him how one seed could transform a woman that much.

His hands slipped from her breasts to the belly, caressed it. "Someone else is awake." He grinned, feeling the flutter against his palms.

She rested her arms on his. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. It's been restless since the dance."

"My heir loves our moves." His hands slipped between her hips and the panty and slid it down to her thighs. "So we should dance more." Kicked away the stool between them, he unzipped his pants.

He bent her over so that her rear perked up, providing him a clear view to her ripen womanhood. Holding her hips, he pushed his crown against her entrance, which was ready to engulf him. He heard her groaning as he forced himself into her, eyes widened at the pulse received from her wall.

Rocking her steadily, he made her moaned. Her body was responding far too well.

Her voice lusted after him. His crave for her amplified. The beast within him was evoked. Had he let it loose, it would ravage her against his will.

That was the mother of his unborn child, squeezing him, making him bowed to her in reverence. He groaned. If that was the by-product of a child sitting in her womb, he did not mind getting her pregnant again.

_ Riza. _

His arms wrapped tightly around her chest. His chest ground against her back. Like a serpent, he clung and tightened his chain around his prey.

Her knees buckled, and she joined him in worship.

But he was not done with her. Not yet.

He nipped her back, pinched and teased her peaks, another hand toying with her pleasure point. He was all over her, making her scream his name as they succumbed to a convulsion together.

They dropped onto the floor. Her back against him. It seemed to last forever.

Unhooked the pins on her bun, he let her hair unwound and flowed onto the floor.

Watching her back rising and falling with each breath, he wrapped an arm over her chest then pulled her to himself. Her hair and sweat were as sweet as honey.

"You are right," she panted out as she rolled over to face him. "We should dance more."

His smile met hers. "This time..." He took her hand. "I let you lead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The choreography wrung my non-artistic brain dry.
> 
> Here’s the very sweet side of Roy.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	17. His Prized Possession is a Simple Person

Mustang rose from the bed. A squirm from behind stilled him. 

He turned his head to the woman lying beside him. She was sleeping on her side, facing him. Whatever movement she made a while ago had stopped.

The bright moon pierced the windows. Her sweet face reflected on Mustang's cold eyes. The corner of his lips curled.

Women… they are so simple.

One dance. He gained not just her heart, but also public favor. With her as his prized possession, his position in the country could not be more stable. 

Mustang slowly pulled away the blanket they shared. He brought his feet over the edge of the bed then onto the floor.

A soft rustling of fabric entered his ears. He waited patiently as the weight plodded toward him.

"Go back to sleep," Mustang said.

A pair of hands snuck under his arms. It wandered from his toned abdomen all the way up to his firm chest.

"What do you think you are doing?" He grunted. A small at the thick of his shoulder was sucked in hard, and let go.

"Paying attention to my husband." The whisper tingled his ear. The suction resumed, moving along his spine and parallel in motion with the hands over his torso.

Mustang did not react. He refused to.

"Do you want to talk about it?" It was a warm offer, together with the arms wrapped about his shoulders. "Or, if you want to release it into me, I'm fine too."

"Damn it, Hawkeye!" Mustang turned and lurched. He landed on all four with his wife underneath him.

With his teeth bared, he found a pair of wide eyes.

The shock on her face soon dissipated. "What's wrong with you?" She sounded amused.

That was his question! How could she smile when she should be trembling in fear? "Why are you not afraid?" He should have asked her long time ago.

She stared at him in surprise. "Afraid of what?"

"Me! I'm a selfish jerk!" He exclaimed.

"Didn't I know that already?" She giggled.

"And I'm yelling at you!"

"True, that makes you very intimidating."

The lion roared at the kitten; the kitten mew. Groaned in frustration, Mustang pushed back and sat languidly on the bed. "What do I have to do to keep you away from me?"

Hawkeye rolled to her side, propped herself up. "Why do you want to do that?"

"Because you keep offering yourself to me, whether I have demanded or not!" Mustang crossed his legs in a meditation position.

"Please..." Hawkeye rose to her knees, hands cupped Mustang's cheeks, forced him to look up to her clear eyes. "Don't tell me you don't like it at all." She lowered her face to him. Her succulent lips dangerously close to his. The mermaid snared her man with both hands to create the illusion of owning her. It was control that he desired.

Mustang pressed both hands at each side of her hips. His chest adhered to her round belly. His mouth stole her breath, admiring the sweet wonders of her hormones. He was addicted to the poison that enslaved him made him defenseless.

"Next term's presidency?" Hawkeye looked up to her husband.

Mustang nodded his head. He leaned his back against the bed frame. His arm wrapped upon his wife's back. "The President wants my reply in two days."

"I suppose public support is not your concern." She rested her head on his chest. His steady heartbeat was especially soothing.

"You know I'll win, even if the election is tomorrow. I'll rule the State with you by my side."

A smile escaped her. "Our lives will be more stable." A life fit for a family of three.

"Yes, and no war." At least, they did not have to go to the frontline.

"When you are done with your term..."

"I'll retire with more than enough pension for the rest of our lives, including our children's."

Best of all, he would not have to choose between power and family.

"That isn't you."

His widened eyes found her blond head on his chest. He never got used to it, to her—his transfigured conscience, his  _ soul mate _ . "Do you hate me? For not providing you a decent life?"

"You know my answer."

Yes, but still...

"I'll do it for you." His hand touched her stomach. "And our baby—" A soft press on his lips tranquilized him.

She detached from him, just enough that they could feel each other's breath. "I don't need a stable live." She became a whisperer. "I have you and our baby. That is enough."

Mustang gazed at his wife. "Why is your world always so simple?"

She just smiled and lifted his arm off her. "We should sleep. You are going to work in the morning." She lied down again with her back facing Mustang.

Mustang sighed in disappointment and went to bed, not knowing the answer was in fact simple.

_ She was a sniper. _

A screech of metal brought her head up.

"You are free to go." A tall blond stood before the metal bars said.

Just the look of the neat blue uniform was enough to irk her.

"Is this some kind of trick?" Elina growled.

"Aren't you paranoid?" Havoc raised his brow. "Your charges are dropped. You can go anywhere you want, except staying in this cell." He turned to his left.

A sinister laugh echoed in the air.

"You'll regret. Now that I'm free, I will avenge my family."

Havoc turned to face the woman squarely, eyes narrowed. "Why don't you quit lying to yourself already? If you wanted to kill the CIC and the general, you would have done so long time ago. And using sedative when you had poison and a gun? That was rather redundant for a vendetta, don't you think?"

"Shut up!" Elina snarled. "You are just Mustang's dog. Don't pretend that you know me!"

Havoc shrugged his shoulders. "If you insist to be in delusion, be my guest! But if you harm the CIC or General Hawkeye again, I'll hunt you down myself. That! I can guarantee." Turned on his heels, the major walked away.

"Tell Mustang and Hawkeye! I'll never forgive them! Never!" Elina roared her pain. The people in general had forgotten the massacre, but as long as she lived, she would remind them what Mustang and Hawkeye had done.

Eventually, the murderers would pay.

"Situation in the South is under control as we rebuild the province. Other than that, there hasn't been much activity at the South Border lately." Mustang reported, standing tall.

"Some peace finally!" The President huffed. "You don't think they will ask for a rematch anytime soon, do you?" He rubbed his chin.

"Unless they can still fight with broken arms and legs." Mustang grinned then snapped into a serious composure. "With that being said, we'll keep an eye on them, just in case."

"Then there is nothing to worry about!" The President turned his palms up. "It's good that we can always rely on you."

"Thank you for your trust, Mister President." Mustang saluted. "I will not let you down."

"You know if you vie for presidency, I'll be more delighted."

"Sir, you'll find a successor." Mustang smirked.

"I know, I know. If I could find someone as interesting as you are, I wouldn't have pestering you for weeks." The President looked at Mustang, and paused. "I guess I can't be too picky."

The knock on the door drew both men's attention.

"Come in!" The President called.

A blond man came in. "Mister President." He walked toward the desk, eyes met Mustang's. "Commander."

"Mister Norsk." Mustang's brows pressed down.

"Ah! You are here, Peter!" The President smile broadly. As Norsk stood beside Mustang, the President glanced at Mustang, said, "Both of you should have known each other. For your information, Commander..."

Mustang raised his brows.

"...Peter is running for president."

Mustang came out from the office with a tightened face.

"Is everything all right, sir?" Falman approached Mustang.

"Peter Norsk is running for president." Mustang plodded along the hallway, with Falman at his side.

"As expected... Nonetheless, the thought of Norsk ruling the country makes me shudder."

"Who cares if he will be the next ruler! I'm more worried about what will happen to the military." Mustang grimaced.

"Careful, Commander." Falman glanced left and right. "You don't want to end up like Grumman." He cautioned.

Mustang tucked his hand into his pocket. "I'm not going against the Assembly, if that is what you are worried."

"No, but your thought alone is enough to sprout a rift in the Assembly. It is best to be mindful of what we say."

Stepped out of the main entrance, Mustang said, "You are right. It will take years, perhaps decades, to build that trust. I can't let it crumble in my hands."

Falman looked at Mustang silently. "You have a plan, sir?"

Mustang looked up to the bright sky. "It might be late summer, but the weather has been pleasant these days..." He smirked at Falman. "I'm thinking about fishing."

Falman raised his brows. "You'll need a good bait."

"Trust me... I lack none."

Laughter and giggle filled the quiet afternoon. Gathering around the table, the women were enjoying tea together while their children playing in the yard.

"I must say, General Hawkeye..." One of them said.

"Please, Misses Yuskof, call me Riza."

"Riza." Yuskof smiled. "It makes me shudder... when I think about what you had gone through. While we had never seen a war…” She brought the cup to her lips, slowly sipped the warm liquid. "I believe none of us could make such decision as you did."

All went well.

"Thank you."

Yuskof laid the cup on its saucer. "Though I applaud and admire your courage..." Her eyes gazed on the cup. "It doesn't affect my husband's regard on you and the Commander."

Hawkeye's eyes roamed to the rest of the women. Their lips were silent, but their eyes belonged to Yuskof. No wonder they did not talk much, especially when Yuskof was around.

"We are not soldiers, just simple military wives who support each other. That doesn’t mean the struggles we face everyday is any lesser than an officer."

Hawkeye glanced to her hand that rested on her lap. 

Yuskof had laid hers on top and squeezed it gently. The benign and friendly gesture was just as powerful as a death-grip.

"Let's leave politics out while you are with us, okay?" Yuskof beamed warmly. She was flawless, 

Under that smile of a loving mother, Hawkeye sensed the aura of an alpha wolf. The rest of the women was Yuskof's pack, and Hawkeye was not welcomed.

_ Iza Yuskof, she was no ordinary military wife. _

Iza Yuskof entered a study. "She left." She faced a middle-aged man sitting behind a study table opposite to two guests.

"Sorry to have you hide us here, General Yuskof." The tall blond said, holding a hand of a brown haired woman.

The general crossed his arms. "I don't understand why you have to be so secretive. It's just a small gathering. Besides, Misses Havoc has been our guests for a few years."

"I just don't want to cause any misunderstanding. As you know, it's a sensitive season."

"Sorry Jean..." The woman sat next to Havoc frowned sadly. "I never thought that I would put you in such difficult situation."

"Grace..." It saddened him to watch the frown on his wife.

A pull on his sleeve brought Havoc's eyes to a toddler.

"Daddy!" The curly blonde giggled, arms extended and raised up high.

Havoc eyes gazed on the toddler. His smile turned into a broad grin. "We should go." Havoc stood up, picked up the toddler into his arms. "Thank you for the hospitality, general, ma'am!"

The general watched the door closed, huffed out. "I wonder what Mustang did to deserve such a loyal subordinate."

"Do you want him?" His wife walked to his side.

"He might have stepped on my toes a few times. That man is a fit horse." He turned to his wife. "You have a way?"

His wife smiled. "I’m not Riza Hawkeye, but I still have a way to support my husband."

Mustang came home with a groaning stomach. An emergency in the situation room caught him unexpectedly, and lasted longer than he had expected. He only hoped that Hawkeye did not wait for him to take her meal.

He went straight to the kitchen and saw the empty dining table. He glanced at the stove, where a pot was sitting. As he uncovered the pot, the rich aroma imbued his nostrils. Hawkeye did leave something for him after all.

One question remained—where was she?

The missing barks from a dog worried him. That canine always followed his wife wherever she went.

"Sir..."

Mustang swirled around, saw his head of security entered the kitchen.

"I thought you should know..." Thaw said. "The general had turned in for the night."

Mustang scowled. It was only eight at night. Hawkeye usually would not sleep until ten.

He rushed out of the kitchen without a word, went up to the second floor, and headed straight into the bedroom.

A fluffy creature welcomed him with wagging tail.

Mustang ruffled the dark hair on the canine's head. Eyes wandered to the figure on one side of his bed.

The dog followed Mustang as the latter approached the bed.

His wife was leaning on her side, facing him. With her eyes closed, she was breathing in and out steadily. There was a pillow in her arms. Another cushioned her back.

Frowning, Mustang brushed her bangs off. He laid his palm on her forehead and let out a breath. Thank goodness it was not burning.

"The stew is on the stove." Her voice muffled by the pillow. "There's also a pie in the fridge. In case you wonder, I had my dinner."

Mustang was amused that his wife knew what he was going to ask.

"General Hawkeye, isn't your status report too brief?"

"Why don't you heal your stomach first, sir?" She asked lazily. "I think I heard thunder."

She had a point.

After a quick bite, Mustang returned to find Hawkeye still lying on the bed, in the same position she had. She was either too comfortable or too drained to move a muscle.

He could guess why. The only surprise he had was that it had not come any earlier.

He went around the bed, but a fur ball decided that he was more qualified to be Hawkeye’s company and had overtook Mustang’s side of the bed.

Mustang sighed. Looks like he had to wring his brain for ways to wrestle with the dog without waking his wife.

"Black Hayate, get down from the bed." One command and the dog jumped off.

Hayate made a circle to Hawkeye and sat down.

Hawkeye raised her hand from the pillow and patted the dog on the head. "Good boy."

Hayate let out a soft whine.

"I thought you are asleep." Mustang climbed onto the bed.

"You do want a status report, don't you? Commander?"

"Yes, but first..." Mustang removed the pillow behind Hawkeye's back. His hands followed the curve of her spine and ran along it with light pressure.

He heard a mellow huff. The tensed muscles became soft under his touch.

"Where and when did you learn that?"

The time was right to put on his trademark smirk. "An alchemist can't reveal his secret, can he?" His hands spread at her lower back.

"Hmm..." Her hum encouraged him to continue. "How ironic." Considering the secret she revealed to him.

As his hands swam along the rigid back, he recalled his past, the one he had never revealed—the reason he studied alchemy—even to his own wife. "I learnt it from Rachael's father." He narrowed his eyes.

"She told me... her parents died in an accident."

"I was there when it happened. Had Master Hawkeye not passed by that factory, I would have been dead too."

Mustang retreated his hands as his wife rolled to face him. Dismay overpowered the smile on his face.

He had opened an old wound which he did not want her to see, not because his ego was at work, but the fear of collateral—bringing her down with him.

He waited for guilt and sympathy to surface from her gaze. It did not happen.

Her eyes had not quivered, not even a bit. "I'm glad he did." Her voice supported her statement. "Otherwise, we wouldn't have met."

His eyes widened but relaxed soon.

There were times he wished Hawkeye's father had not saved that boy. That way, he would not have become a murderer, whose hands stained with Ishvalans' and the Rockbells' blood.

On the flip side, that boy whom Hawkeye’s father saved became the State's Commander-in-Chief, a husband, and soon a father.

Mustang looked at the bulging abdomen on his wife. He laid his palm on it and was amazed by the growing volume. "How's my heir doing today?" His brows lifted at the thuds against his palm.

"That’s one of its new moves."

He bent his back and planted a kiss on the round belly. "I know you are excited, kid. Just don't give your mother too much trouble."

Hawkeye watched as her husband caressed her stomach. "Roy..."

"Hmm?"

She pressed her hands onto his, firmly on the protruded waist. Just a few more months... "We need to get the nursery ready soon."

Right. He almost forgot. "How about I take a week off? We can spend some time together, set up the nursery, and maybe swing by Hughes' place. I bet you miss Elysia just as much as she does."

Hawkeye's brows raised. She was rather impressed. "Do you always have everything planned?"

Mustang kissed her forehead. "Only for the woman of my life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are severely deprived of some downtime, so I added a little bit of fluff to spice up the weekend.
> 
> See you next week.


	18. The King has Fallen

"This is it."

Hawkeye heard Thaw say as the car slowly came to a stop. Her bodyguard did the courtesy to open the door for her. How tranquil the isolated neighborhood was—away from industrial and traffic sound pollution typically found in Central.

Hawkeye alighted from the vehicle and came before the mold-covered fencing wall. 

On the two-storey tall building, cracks on the wooden structure glared the eyes even from far. The paint was flaking from the edges. Excluding Hawkeye and her company, not a ghost was anywhere near that property.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Hawkeye walked to the gate. The metal bars covered in brown and black iron oxides had her attention.

Thaw was standing before the gatepost that was wrapped with thick vines. He squinted at anything legible from the metal plate fixed on the post. With a pocket knife out, he slashed away the thick resilient growth. "Positive." Content with what he had found, he returned to the general's side. "I wonder if anyone is home." He gripped on the rusty bars.

A gust of wind passed through them, forcing them to close their eyes. Thaw instinctively leaned his weight on the gate. As soon as the wind stopped, a sharp screech pricked their ears.

The gate, which the bodyguard had been holding on, had given way to a width barely enough to fit a person laterally. 

"Ma'am, let me check if anyone's in." Thaw's eyes unwittingly went to Hawkeye’s waistline. It was a quick glance. He had snapped his eyes up at her within split second.

Hawkeye saw it. Without a word, she bent over just enough to let her hand feel the latch on the side of the untouched gate. Pulled it up and fastened it onto the upper gap, she let go of the latch.

They watched the hinges slip. The gate had just opened.

_ Well, what do you know! _

At that moment, no one knew how much Thaw wanted to slap himself. Hawkeye, on the other hand, could not bother. She was more interested in getting closer to the house and see for herself. 

Her bodyguards followed her onto the gravel trail, which was surrounded by nothing except kempt grassfield.

It felt like she had returned home, to her father's mansion. Everything was too much alike except those flowers before the porch.

_ "Eric Stuka?" _

_ "He had been stationed at the hot zone in the West for decades. A great strategist with outstanding service record. He could have been a full-fledged general had he not been a go-by-the-book man. Anyway, I had him transferred to Central a couple years ago, but strangely, I don't recall ever meeting him." Mustang rubbed his chin. _

_ Hawkeye looked askance. "Don't tell me... You totally forgot about him, didn’t you?" She caught a faint twitch on Mustang's brow. _

_ "If I weren’t so caught up by the Assembly, I would have paid a visit." He looked away. _

_ Facing her husband, Hawkeye sighed. "I'll look into it. I suppose you don't remember which unit he is currently in." _

_ "Lieutenant Falman should know. I'll have him prepare all the information you need." Mustang flashed his smile. _

Hawkeye wondered if any information would prepare her what was behind that door.

"Ma'am?"

Either way, it was too late to back down. With Yuskof grasping most of Central senior staff in his hand, Mustang had to collect whatever bread crumbs left under Yuskof's table. And as a good wife...

Opened her eyes, Hawkeye knocked on the door. It was about a minute before she saw the knob turned.

A woman came out. She glanced at the men behind Hawkeye, then returned her gaze at Hawkeye. For someone who had been in seclusion, the woman did not flinch at the sight of strangers at her doorstep.

But that did not mean that the strangers were welcomed.

No matter what custom a person held, it was always appropriate to start off with greetings.

"Good afternoon." While her husband's smile was to boast and to charm a lady, Hawkeye's was more of a soft radiance from the sun. "Sorry to bother you. Are you Mrs. Lara Stuka?"

"What is this about?" And like any energy, there were times when it was deflected.

"I'm—"

"I know who you are, General Riza Hawkeye." Lara raised her palm. "If you are looking for Eric... he's not home."

Despite the cold treatment, Hawkeye felt attracted to the woman she met for the first time. She blinked away the stare. "Actually, I'm looking for you."

Lara raised her eyebrows.

"What is going on?" A man in blue uniform entered the front yard. "General Hawkeye?" He saluted as soons as Hawkeye turned to him.

Brown skin, bushy brows, square face. Except for the goatee, the soldier fitted the profile picture.

"General Stuka, please. I’m here for an unofficial visit. There is no need for formality."

Stuka rushed to his wife's side. "And what pleasure do we owe?"

Thaw stood forward. He handed a letter-size envelope to Stuka.

"As a general, you are entitled to housing and stipends for your family. That envelope contains everything you need to receive those benefits." Hawkeye said.

Stuka lowered the envelope. "Thank you for your concern, ma’am. But, my wife and I need no such thing."

"That is your decision. My advice, though, is to take whatever the military offers. After all, it is our duty to look after those who are serving the country and their families."

"You are right." Stuka pressed his brows down. "However, we learnt that there is no such thing as free lunch."

Hawkeye narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, general?"

"If there is nothing else, please..." Stuka spreaded his arm toward the gate.

Hawkeye stared at Stuka's stiff face, then glanced at Lara, who had looked away in grimace. "I'm sorry for the intrusion, general. Do contact me if there is anything that you need." Hawkeye left the compound, together with the men in black.

"I have to say..." Mustang sat on the bed, unbuttoning his blue jacket. "Even though I heard that Stuka was a peculiar man, I never thought he was leaning to the extreme."

"He seemed to have a compelling reason." Hawkeye went to the cupboard and took out a set of pajamas. "He said that there is no such thing as free lunch. Do you think it has something to do with General Yuskof?" She laid the clothes on the bed, beside Mustang.

"Maybe not." Mustang removed the jacket. "He might think that we want something from him." Stood up, he hung the jacket on a stand.

"Which we do." Hawkeye returned to the cupboard to retrieve another set of clothes. "But that doesn't explain why he rejects all the perks he could have had." She brushed her palm on the smooth sleeve.

"I'll get Havoc dig deeper." Mustang then held his chin.

"Is there a problem?"

"It's Havoc. He hasn't been himself lately."

"He has a family, and another baby is coming. What do you expect?"

"Give me some credit, would you? You sound like I'm a slave-driver." Mustang noticed his wife had frozen before the cupboard. "What are you doing?" He went to his wife and heard an audible sigh.

Staring at the blue uniform, Hawkeye stroked along her bulge. "I guess I won't be able to fit in this anymore."

Mustang blinked his eyes. "You are returning to duty soon?"

"In two weeks, to be exact."

"Which means early August?" Mustang wrapped his arms around Hawkeye's waist. "Just when I am fond of having you at home..."

Hawkeye chuckled. "Well don't get used to it. I'll be leaving soon."

"Have you forgotten who I am?" Mustang smiled mischievously, leaned his head forward. "I can always extend your suspension if I wish." As he was close to touching her cheek with his lips, the light faded away.

"Commander?"

Mustang found his wife's face again, her eyes staring at his.

"What's the matter? You look like you are stunned."

Mustang blinked his eyes then grinned. "That's because I'm looking at you."

She smiled. She always did. The towel that was later draped on his head, however, was something new and a put-off.

"Go take a shower!" He heard her. Being pushed on the chest, he took a few steps back.

Snatched the towel off his face, Mustang groaned in frustration. "Why couldn't you just play along like you used to?"

Hawkeye hung the uniforms into the cupboard. Closed the cupboard, she turned to Mustang. Her face was as innocent as she could get. "I don't know. Should I keep offering myself?"

_ Aha! She remembered! _

Mustang smirked, slowly inched his steps forward to his wife. Their gazes connected. "As of now, you should." He stopped.

Hawkeye's hand was on his chest again.

He knew she would take the bite.

"Why don't you make up your mind? A shower can certainly help." A victorious curl on her lips—an exact replica of his own.

The king was in check again, but he had not been a master strategist for nothing.

Mustang lurched at his wife and swept her legs up. He had her on his arms and a shrill to his ears.

"What are you doing?"

Oh how he liked the surprise on her face! On side note, was there anything about her which he did not like?

"Didn't you say shower?" Mustang gloated.

"Oh no Roy, you can't be serious!"

"Sorry, General Hawkeye." Mustang took her to the bathroom. "I am serious."

"He what?" Mustang's brow raised.

"General Stuka has applied for housing and other incentives entitled to his pay grade. His application was granted a few days ago," Falman said.

"And a week ago he was standing firm on not to take any." Mustang propped up his lower arm. His elbow on his desk. Knuckle against his lower jaw. "What changed his mind?"

The office's door flung open. "Commander!" The soldier panted out. "The South... There is an insurrection!"

With a yellowish black and white photo holding in her hand, Lara had her eyes fixed on the people in that two-dimension space, envied the smiles on the family. Her fingers brushed away a spot that marred the face of a fair haired man. A bitter smile sneaked through her lips. She touched the grey strands over her right ear, breathed out a sigh. That was when she heard the bell ring.

Lara quickly put away the picture, hurried out of the room, and reached for the door. Her face dropped as soon as she recognized the blonde before her doorstep. "General, I'm sure a notable person like you have more important issues to attend than to pester an old woman!" She had made sure to sound like a cranky landlady. But, her aura quickly pulverized by a smile from the younger woman.

"Sorry if this is a bad time," Hawkeye said. "I heard that you've moved, so I've brought a gift."

Lara then noticed a pot of rose in the general's hands.

"You like roses, don't you?"

Lara widened her eyes. "How did you..."

"I saw them in your previous home. A friend of mine told me that growing roses needs a lot of care. Those roses grew so well. I could only imagine how much care you have given them."

Lara's jaw tightened as she watched the soft gaze from Hawkeye at the pale rose. "Flattery won't change anything."

"But sincerity will."

That was the first time Lara saw those burning eyes. They reminded her of someone. "You can keep the rose, general. I have no place to grow it here."

"Then, I'll visit again tomorrow."

"Do you not get what I mean? You are a nuisance! Now leave me and my husband alone!" Lara slammed the door with a bang.

"Ma'am?"

Hawkeye took a deep breath. Although she had foreseen the outcome, it was still disappointing. Her eyes lingered on the door, as if doing so would make the door open again. She closed her eyes. A quiet laugh escaped her. She wondered when she had become so greedy. "Let's go." Her sharp turn yanked away her thought on the closed door. As promised, she would return the next day.

There came a noise. Hawkeye looked back, and her withered hope relit itself.

"What the hell is going on?! Why is there a quarantine in the first place?!" Mustang snarled.

Lieutenant Falman flinched at the loud slam on the desk. "It's anthrax, sir. The same strain that killed the former council members and Southern Front."

Mustang widened his eyes. "Southern Front? The battalion that was annihilated in South City?" And all that while he thought the battalion was overcome by a siege. But wait... it had been more than two months since the war ended. His eyes steered to his left, where Falman stood. "You knew..."

Falman cast his eyes down. The muscles on his face tensed.

"Care to explain yourself, Lieutenant?"

Falman tightened his jaws.

"Don't blame the lieutenant." Someone barged in. "He was just carrying out my order."

Mustang watched the tall blonde came to his desk one step at a time. "Major Havoc..." His eyes narrowed, glaring. "Where the hell have you been?" He growled.

Havoc arched his brow at the Commander, then glanced at Falman. "Following a lead." Havoc put a hand on his waist. "What else do you think?"

"That is the sort of attitude that I'm going to charge for insubordination."

"What is your problem?"

"My problem? You are withholding information from your commanding officer."

"Yeah, for a good reason!"

"Like what?"

"In case you have forgotten, the Assembly, particularly Norsk, has been hard on you since you stumbled into the former council members' death. Do you think you can come clean if your hands are on the case?"

"I should be thanking you then. Is that what you are saying?"

"No, but I'm sure as hell that you would have understood without being told."

"Understood? Turn on the broadcast for crying out loud! Everyone thinks that the State's Military is behind it!"

Both superior and subordinate locked their glares on each other. Neither of them were willing to yield.

"Sirs?" Falman stepped up. He had witnessed both officers bickering before but none escalated to that far.

Mustang turned his head, snorted in contempt. "I heard you have been close with General Yuskof these days." He smirked. "Has he offered to take you under his wing?"

"Are you even listening to yourself? Who do you think I've been working around the clock for?"

"Just be honest, if you want to join him, all you need to do is ask. I would have let you go." Mustang felt his blood drain from his body as he clenched his fists. He tried in vain to mask the tiny twitches on his face and arms. Maybe he was just being angry. Maybe he really meant what he said. Either way, he had said it, and there was no turning back.

"Fine! There's no point following a leader who has trust issues anyway." Havoc turned on his heels and stormed out of the room.

Mustang could see it from his peripheral vision that the lieutenant was watching him. The latter probably had an opinion of his own—not that Mustang cared. It was just not the priority.

"Commander?"

"Leave him!" As soon as he said it, Mustang's eyelids pinched tightly. He tilted forward, gripping the back of his head, as if being struck by a baseball bat.

_ Great... _

"Sir!" Mustang heard the call and forced his eyes open to find his assistant rushing to his side. No, no! There was no time to fuss over a headache! "Get Major Breda..." He could not even speak without flaring the pain sensors in his head. "Tell him to... go... to the South..."

The South was in chaos. His most trusted subordinate walked out on him. Even his own body acted against his will. For a man with so much power in his hand, he had to strain his throat to make words, yet could not finish his sentence.

As if that was not enough, he fell into the dark abyss and ceased to exist.

She had breached the thick wall of a castle. Better still, she became a guest. What she had not thought of was what she should do after getting in.

It was a miscalculation, one that had not happened to her before.

Hawkeye glanced at the pale rose before her, then looked up to Lara. As she thought of it, the rose and Lara were quite a match. They were both elegant flowers with thorns.

"Tell me..."

Hawkeye pricked her back.

"Is he worth it?" That was one staggering question.

Lara had not waited before she continued. "You need more than just strength and resilience to run here and there with that stomach."

Hawkeye unwittingly touched her protruded belly with both hands. Running errands for Mustang was a trained habit since the day she joined his team. While her steps and body were getting heavier, they had not been a major hindrance in performing her duty.

But... was he worth it?

"I don't know, Mrs. Stuka. I had not thought of it before."

That was the first time Hawkeye saw a face of delight on the older woman. "You love him very much. That's the only reason that question had never crossed your mind."

Hawkeye paused at Lara's statement. For years she had convinced herself and the others that she was merely helping and protecting a leader. Through him she wished to atone her sin. She did not lie. It was just not the whole truth.

A nudge to her side brought her eyes to her abdomen. Her child was listening. "I do. I have loved him since the day we met." She did not hesitate or was embarrassed by it.

Hawkeye's answer seemed to earn Lara's approval. The latter's smile bloomed like a rose, though a ring on the bell made it short-lived. Lara excused herself and went to the door.

"Congratulations for your new home! I hope you..." The voice trailed off.

Recognizing the voice, Hawkeye rose to her feet. She reached the door and saw her husband standing at the doorstep. 

He was holding a fruit basket, eyes staring at Lara, who had become a pillar next to the door.

"Commander? Have you met Mrs. Stuka before?" Hawkeye walked closer to the two, noticing Lara too had a strange frown.

"Lara!"

Mustang turned to the incoming guest—an officer in military blue. It was General Stuka.

Hawkeye heard her husband snort out a laugh.

Restored his usual demeanor, Mustang faced Lara squarely with a smirk, as if the awkward silence had never happened before. "Sorry to have disturbed you, Mrs. Stuka. Please accept this gift from me." Mustang handed the basket to Lara. "You have a nice day."

Glanced to Hawkeye, he had returned to be the revered CIC. "Let's go." That order was made as quick as Mustang setting off, without much of a pause.

"Excuse us, Mrs. Stuka." Hawkeye made a brief bow to the older woman and followed Mustang hastily. Her heart, however, stayed with Stukas. She glimpsed behind.

Fruits spewed on the floor. A woman hid her face behind the navy blue sleeves. The image was an exact replay of the visits Hawkeye had when she left the houses of her fallen comrades from the Fourth Division. She wondered what Lara had lost.

If she had to guess...

Hawkeye returned her gaze to the man before her. There was a slight slouch on Mustang's shoulders, barely noticeable under the black trench coat. It was a quirk he had when he balled his fists. Together with the silent treatment, Mustang had sent ample signals that he was holding it in, just barely to restrain the devil within him.

That was the time when no one, not even Hawkeye, was allowed to reach him. Pity he might seem, but that meagre dignity was all he left.

Hawkeye respected that and gave him the space he needed, for as long as he wanted, as long as a short minute.

If Hawkeye had not caught his arm in time, Mustang would have fallen to his knees, but her snap support was not enough to balance both her weight and Mustang's limped body. As they plunged onto the floor, their bodyguards leapt in, just in time to hold the two.

"Commander! Commander!" Hawkeye cried out. Her grip on her husband's arm slipped as he was pulled away from her. That was when she saw it—trickles of fresh, red blood—oozing from Mustang's nostrils.

"Quick! Lay him on the floor!" Thaw barked. "And someone get an ambulance!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The calm before a great storm. 
> 
> It is up to the Queen for her next move.
> 
> Chapter 19 will take some time because I’m working on the backstory. It doesn’t help when most of my inspiration goes to Tokyo Ghoul’s Akiramon instead.
> 
> I promise to come back to this. Meanwhile, please check out my other fics.


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